What A Tangled Web We Weave
by ilovetvalot
Summary: When Emily Prentiss' former classmates are slain in Indianapolis, can she and the rest of the team find the killer before she becomes his final victim? TEAMFIC - Will be Multi-chaptered.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: ATTENTION, READERS AND AUTHORS - we're rapidly drawing near the close of our first annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards. WE CURRENTLY HAVE ****TWO**** DAYS LEFT TO VOTE FOR OUR FAVORITE AUTHORS AND STORIES. Please remember to try and spare a few moments over the upcoming days and VOTE for your favorite authors and stories in the "Profiler's Choice Awards" at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. You have through the end of November 30, 2010 to let your voice and vote be heard, and we want to hear from each one of you. If you don't know much about forums, links can be found through either my profile (ilovetvalot) or my awesome co-author (tonnie2001969). Please send your votes to the PM listed in the rules (found on the forum) or your ballot can't be counted! Remember, anyone that wants to help advertise the awards has our unending gratitude, and there is also a short blurb you can use on our profile pages.**

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* * *

**What a Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter One**

He caught himself looking at her at the oddest and most inappropriate moments. Like now, standing at a crime scene in what felt like the Arctic tundra. True, it was really only Indiana in the winter, but the Arctic just had a snappier ring to it.

At any rate, now was entirely _NOT_ the time to be drawn in by her.

Really, what was so attractive about windblown hair and a nose redder than Rudolph's? But, yet, there it was again…that draw he felt more and more lately. It was almost magnetic, capturing him against his will and pulling him closer and closer to someone he couldn't have and shouldn't be looking at.

When has that ever stopped you before, a voice remarked dryly from the depths of his psyche?

The answer, he knew, was that it hadn't. And that had created more problems for him than he liked to remember. In fact, two of those three alimony checks he wrote every month had resulted from that so-called magnetic pull. By now, he should have known how to ignore the siren's call, shouldn't he?

Serendipitously stealing another look in her direction, he noticed the faint lines bracketing her delicate mouth. She only got those telltale markers for two reasons. Either she had a hell of a migraine hovering on the horizon, or Emily Prentiss had seen something that didn't fit into one of the many organized boxes her mind automatically formed. Unfortunately, usually one led to the other. And neither boded well for him, her current partner on this particular case.

Moving around a couple of gawking sheriff's deputies, Dave barely quelled a scathing comment. Swallowing it down, he gave himself a mental pat on the back at his unusual restraint. Damn Aaron and his kinder, gentler, more cooperative Behavioral Analysis Unit. Twenty years ago he could have had a good go at the two younger men behind him. Now, it was all about team spirit and unity crap.

What happened to the days when all he had to worry about was catching the fucking bad guy?

Shaking his head to clear his mind once again, he moved closer to his current prey. Kneeling beside Emily on the dewy grass, Dave murmured, "Anything useful?"

"Take a look at her, Rossi," Emily said, nodding toward their unsub's newest unfortunate victim, her eyes still trained on the still white face of the woman lying on the ground. "Do you feel like something is off here?"

Narrowing his eyes on the body, Dave said softly, his words for her alone, "The body's obviously been staged. Her face is turned away. Could be a vague sign of remorse on the unsub's part."

"Her hands, Dave," Emily said with a shake of her head, gesturing above the pretty young woman's clasped hands, her own hands hovering in the air. "Specifically, the nail polish."

"What about it?" Dave asked, squinting as he stared down at the pale pink nail enamel coating their victim's nails. Maybe he should have remembered his reading glasses, he thought belatedly as he had to blink to focus.

"Kate would never wear that color," Emily stated evenly, nodding at the hands of their dead victim, "with that suit."

Jerking his gaze toward Emily, Dave frowned as he narrowed his gaze. "Since when do we refer to our victims by their first name, Prentiss?" he asked sharply, his acute hearing catching her slip easily. The guilty flush creeping up her neck was the only confirmation he needed to know that he'd tapped into a hidden truth that Emily very definitely had not wanted seen...by him or anyone else. "Prentiss?" he prodded when an answer was not forthcoming.

Pressing her lips together, Emily tried to collect her scattered thoughts as she shifted her weight on her ankles. True, she hadn't known the identity of their newest victim when they'd gotten the first call this morning that the unsub had stolen another woman's life. She had left the Indianapolis precinct where they were based with no more knowledge than any other member of her team. But one glance at the slain woman upon their arrival had confirmed it to her, though.

And she'd said nothing. Her desire to stay with the case had been tantamount, and the realization that Kate Bosworth had been killed had been a powerful motivator. "It's complicated, Rossi," she replied, keeping her voice low as she heard more vehicles pulling into the grassy field where the body had been dumped.

"Simplify it then," Dave ordered tersely, leaning back on his heels, his weight sinking his shoes into the damp ground. "What do you know about this woman and how do you know it?"

"Kate Bosworth," Emily murmured, nodding toward the once pretty woman who was now ingloriously displayed for the entire world…or at least the police world. "She was a diplomat's daughter, too."

"Like you," Dave commented, his mind already busily adding this new intelligence to his mental file on the case. And if his mental synapses were firing correctly, he was already beginning to feel the stirrings of something that was definitely close to trepidation.

"Like me," Emily confirmed simply, meeting his eyes for a scant second before she glanced back at the still body.

"So, let me get this straight. This guy has now killed a Senator's daughter, the mayor's niece and now a diplomat's daughter. Did you know all the victims, Emily?" Dave asked bluntly, his eyes boring into her bent head.

"Not directly. But they all traveled in my mother's circle. I honestly never made the connection until I saw Kate's body," Emily replied quietly.

"Where's your mother from, Emily?" Dave bit out, every word clipped as he waited for the answer he felt that he already knew.

"Carmel," Emily answered hesitantly, "about fifteen minutes from here."

"Christ," Dave snapped, his fist clenching against his thigh. "And you're just now giving us this? What were you waiting on, Prentiss?"

"For it to make some sense," Emily retorted, finally turning to face him, her dark eyes flashing angrily. "There's no direct connection between me and this case. I hadn't seen Kate in almost ten years."

"Close enough," Dave growled, scrubbing a hand over his face. Hotch was just gonna love this. When the press got wind of the fact that the Indiana-grown Ambassador's daughter was working the case, they'd be all over them like a fly on shit. Not to mention the fact that Emily could be in the killer's sights as well. What a clusterfuck. Inhaling deeply, Dave demanded, "We'll get back to your less than forthcoming approach to the case in a minute. What about her hands, Prentiss? What are you seeing here?"

"Kate is wearing a red suit, Rossi," Emily stated calmly, gesturing to the sleeve of the victim's soiled Christmas red suit. "Her nails are painted pale pink. No socialite worth her stature is going to wear those two colors together." A wisp of a memory floated through her mind then, laughter filling her ears and the smell of acetone assailing her nose, a long ago late night slumber party invading her thoughts. Shaking her head, Emily forced herself to clear her mind, to return to the present. Memory lane was not her destination…not now.

"Fashion faux pas aside, do you see anything else unexplainable?" Dave snorted, rolling his eyes as he shook his head, her observation not impressing him at that moment.

"Look at the nails, Rossi," Emily snapped, unwilling to be swayed from her reasoning. Letting out a deep breath, she observed, "This nail enamel is obviously cheep. It's cracked and warped already. And the nails have been filed...by a novice."

"You're saying the unsub gave her a manicure before he killed her?" Rossi asked, only half sarcastic now as he let himself actually focus on the body, Emily's words driving him forward.

"I'm saying he filed and painted her nails," Emily shrugged, watching as the man beside her nodded slowly.

"An act of remorse?" Dave queried, bending his head to study the nails more closely.

"Or she fought back," Emily proposed. "Perhaps he was trying to eliminate physical evidence."

"Doesn't explain why he'd take the time to paint them, too. We need to find out if the other victims were treated similarly. I don't see any other signs of defensive wounds," he noted, scanning the body again, years of crime scene analysis allowing him to notice idiosyncrasies that might lead to breaks in the case. But mostly, he let himself take the moment while he fought down the rising anger that threatened to make its presence known again.

Shaking her head, Emily swallowed. "The ME said the damage to her face was caused post-mortem," Emily whispered, forcing herself to look down at Kate's battered face. "Tentative cause of death is just like the others. Asphyxiation."

"Assaulted?" Dave asked softly, guarding his tone as he heard the hesitation in Emily's voice.

Nodding, Emily suppressed a shudder at the violence her one-time friend had endured in the hours before she'd succumbed to the monster that stole her life. "Repeatedly," she replied, keeping her voice steady by sheer willpower.

Rising, Emily faced Dave squarely as he pulled up into a standing position. "Hotch is going to want me off this case, isn't he?"

"Oh, yeah," Dave chuckled, without humor, his lips pulled tight as he dusted his hands against his jeans. "And you'll probably have a nifty little protective detail, too, if I know Aaron the way I think I do."

"No."

"Excuse me?" Dave replied, cocking one eyebrow as he stared down at her.

"I said no," Emily repeated insistently, raising her chin slightly as she met his dark eyes, her own gaze even and unwavering.

"Any particular reason you're getting ready to dig in your heels like a child, Prentiss?" Dave asked wryly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's simple actually. I know how to catch our unsub," Emily said calmly.

"Care to share?" Dave retorted, his stomach already sinking as her eyes glinted determinedly.

"I'm your bait."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Just a reminder, December 25th is right around the corner. Everyone that signed up for the CM Christmas Fic Exchange, please remember your stories. We want this to be a WONDERFUL gift experience for all involved. If you have any questions, feel free to pm either myself (ilovetvalot) or tonnie2001969.**_

_**In other forum news, please check out our newest discussion thread, "Serious vs. Light - Which gets the most response?" It is a discussion of serious vs light stories and the response they get from readers. We also have new interviews with Clarebones and musicxlife4 up for your reading pleasure.**_

_**Finally, if any of you have any idea for issues/activities that you'd like to see "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum tackle in the form of discussion threads and/or challenges, please let us know. We want to bring you all some really fun threads in the New Year!**_

_**As always, thank you to every reader, reviewer, favoriter, and alerter that enjoys our stories. Hearing from each of you means a great deal. Now, on with our story!**_

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Two**

Pulling open his desk drawer, he softly sang, "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" as he rifled through the contents for his marker.

This was just getting easier and easier. Like a grape ripe for the plucking, Kate Bosworth had fallen into his hands. It was about time something went easily for him. He'd spent literal years planning these moments. He deserved to savor them now.

Those rich little bitches had their chance to have more than their fair share of fun at his expense. And whenever one would leave, another would be waiting to take her place.

Now, they all had to pay.

And making them pay was so much fun. It was scandalous how much he enjoyed their screams and pleas for life.

_"Please, just let me go...my family will pay anything! Do you hear me? Anything you want!"_

How many times had he heard those cunts make that particular entreaty? The last one, Kate, had made it a mantra. She hadn't been as much fun, though...

The little whore had thought she could fool him into thinking she enjoyed what he'd done to her...those moans she made, he thought, his nose wrinkling with distaste. The bitch hadn't been able to fake orgasm worth a damn.

He'd almost been tempted to mar that pretty face she had. Almost.

But his late mother's words echoed in his mind: _There were rules for a reason, my darling. One must never mar his toy before he's done playing with it. And if you break it, you must do your very best to fix it before you return it to its shelf._

Wrapping his fingers around the red felt tipped marker, he nodded obediently.

Yes, he thought, turning toward the white dry erase board behind his desk. He knew all about rules. Mummy had taught him well.

Drawing a precise line through Kate Bosworth's smiling photograph, he took great delight in completing the large "X" he drew over her face. Taking a step back, he surveyed his handiwork. Mummy would be so proud of his methodology, he told himself as he walked to the beginning of the board, raising a finger to caress the first woman's picture.

Melinda Carmichael. "Milly" to her friends, which he was not. By far, his scrappiest contender. She'd been a field hockey goalie back when he'd first met her. Athletic and graceful, she'd given him a run for his money. Snagging her outside the symphony had taken a finesse that still made his chest fill with pride. Melinda's father, the distinguished Senator Clive Carmichael, must have been simply beyond himself when she never joined him in the family box. After all, she'd always been daddy's littlest angel. The smug bastard had attended every one of Milly's games at school…and always made his presence known.

But the look on her face...when she'd finally awakened from the chloroform cocktail he'd shoved under her aristocratic nose...that undeniable look when she'd realized exactly who had her and why...now that had been a rush.

He still got hard just remembering that stare of abject horror that had blanketed her flawless face when she'd recognized him. Then followed the grim resolution that she wasn't leaving him alive. God, that afternoon he'd ridden high.

But was that afternoon as gay as the one he'd shared with Christina "Crissy" Regan, he asked himself, moving to the next picture. Grabbing her had been a true coup...and totally coincidental. When he'd seen her outside the arena as he'd waited to be seated for the Broadway show _Wicked_ that had finally made its way to Indianapolis, he'd become almost giddy. Plotting and planning the entire performance as he'd watched her sitting regally in her box seat, he could hardly regret the money he'd wasted on a play of which he hadn't seen a moment.

He'd gotten her.

That poised redhead had refused to scream, infuriating him to the point of near madness. Her cool green eyes had dared him to do his worst.

And he had, he smiled to himself. Again and again and again.

Being the mayor's niece hadn't saved that little bitch...not as it had in school. He gave no special privileges for pristine lineage dating back to the Mayflower.

No matter what those filthy little rich girls said, blue blood or not...it all appeared red when he spilled it.

Oh, yes, Crissy had been fun. He would always remember her. But, Kate, his latest conquest...she'd been a pure challenge, he thought, stopping in front of her picture once more.

Her agonized cries and wails still echoed in his playroom...her blood still spotting his normally pristine marbled floor.

His Kate had remembered him straight away. And unlike the others, she'd simply pretended that their shared history had never occurred, treating him as a long lost friend when she'd seen him standing outside the gala benefiting the Children's Museum. The stupid twat had even kissed his cheek.

How he'd taken utter pleasure in making her kiss more indelicate parts of his body just hours later. He could still feel her silky blonde hair wrapped around his hand. Now there was a slut that knew how to handle a cock. Those rumors he'd heard floating through their school campus had been entirely too true.

Katherine Bosworth had been a first rate whore, talented with both lips and hands. That was probably a skill she'd picked up in one of those God forsaken third world countries in which her arrogant Ambassador father had been posted. But none of that had saved her. Fate was what fate was. And her fate had been to die for the trouble she'd caused him.

To date, watching the life drain from her eyes had been the most satisfying. Mostly, because she actually thought she was going to live through the experience. While his time with her hadn't been quite as joyous as her predecessors, her kill...oh, that had been divine.

Now, how did one top that kind of sheer perfection?

Moving to the colorful picture of an elegant brunette, he sighed longingly. She was so lovely...and the passing years had been kind. She would be delightful, he just knew it.

The best part of all, however, was the fact that he didn't need to chase her.

Emily Prentiss was already here for him. All he had to do was wait for his opportunity.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Hold on folks, this is a long note today! First, Tonnie and I would like to announce that signups for Chit Chat on Author's Corner's January Challenge-The Happy New Year's Challenge are open thru December 30, 2010. Simply swing by the forum (you can link to it thru our profile pages) and sign up with the pairing you'd like to see written and three prompts associated with the holiday. On Jan 1, 2011, you'll be assigned a random pairing (not the one you usually write) and three prompts to write by January 30.**_

_**Second, I have a question for my readers. I truly enjoyed last night's CM episode, "What Happens at Home" and the introduction of the character Agent Ashley Seaver. I intend to do some stories with her character incorporated into a pairing and I'd like to know who you guys would like to see me pair her with. I know the obvious choice is Reid, but what about Hotch or Rossi. Anybody that knows my work knows I'm a sucker for older man/younger woman pairings. So, shoot me a pm or review and let me know what you think. I think the world of you guys and value your opinions!**_

_**Just a reminder, December 25th is right around the corner. Everyone that signed up for the CM Christmas Fic Exchange, please remember your stories. We want this to be a WONDERFUL gift experience for all involved. If you have any questions, feel free to pm either myself (ilovetvalot) or tonnie2001969.**_

_**In other forum news, please check out our newest discussion thread, "Serious vs. Light - Which gets the most response?" It is a discussion of serious vs. light stories and the response they get from readers. We also have new interviews with Clarebones and musicxlife4 up for your reading pleasure.**_

_**Also please check out the discussion thread entitled, "The Fine Line Between T and M ratings". There's a great ongoing discussion there, too.**_

_**Finally, if any of you have any idea for issues/activities that you'd like to see "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum tackle in the form of discussion threads and/or challenges, please let us know. We want to bring you all some really fun threads in the New Year!**_

_**As always, thank you to every reader, reviewer, and person that favorites or alerts one of our stories. Hearing from each of you means a great deal to each of us. We truly value your thoughts and opinions. Now, on with our story!**_

* * *

**What a Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Three**

Oh, what she wouldn't give for a very tall glass of Chardonnay at this exact moment. Or whiskey. Whiskey would work, too, she thought, closing her eyes as David Rossi again began speaking...this time in rapid Italian.

"You realize I speak that fluently speak that language, too," Emily murmured, not bothering to turn her head and look at him as she leaned her head back against the leather headrest of the SUV. Why bother? She knew what she'd see burning in his eyes.

Anger. Concern. Incredulity. And still, more anger.

And if she had any doubt what she'd be seeing, all she had to do was listen. The usually quietly composed David Rossi hadn't shut up since she'd shared her plan with him. Why had she even mentioned her plan to him? It wasn't his authorization she needed anyway.

It was Hotch's.

Of course, gaining Aaron Hotchner's approval would have been a hell of a lot easier with David Rossi on her side. But it was as obvious as the patrician nose on her face that there would be no quarter afforded her by the vexed man sitting beside her, his Sicilian curses still coloring the air inside the vehicle.

Lifting one hand to massage her aching temple, Emily inhaled slowly. Whether the nausea she was experiencing stemmed from a forming migraine or the condition Kate's body had been in, she wasn't sure. "Dave?" she said huskily, pressing one hand to her stomach as she fought to maintain her rapidly devolving composure.

He went on as if he hadn't heard her voice, complaining vehemently about her stupid rookie idea. "Dave?" she bit out, louder this time.

"What?" he snapped in English, snapping his gaze from the road to her, still infuriated by her blasé announcement that she'd be using herself as the worm dangling from the BAU's hook.

"Stop the car," she demanded, swallowing quickly as bitter saliva flooded her tongue.

"Why?" he frowned, noticing for the first time how pale she'd gotten in mere minutes.

"Just do it," she breathed, exhaling slowly as she felt him smoothly swerve the SUV onto the shoulder of the road. Swinging the door open before he'd come to a complete stop, Emily threw off her seatbelt and stumbled out of the black vehicle, barely making it to the side of the road before her stomach revolted.

Catching her breath a minute later, Emily jerked as she felt a cool bottle of water being pressed into her hand. Glancing to her right, she cringed. Great. Just perfect! Not only did David Rossi now think she was an idiot, but now she'd humiliated herself even further by getting sick in front of him.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked softly.

"I will be if you'll take your decibel level down to half of what it has been," she quipped, straightening slowly and twisting the plastic top from the drink. Rinsing her mouth quickly, she turned her head as she spat on the ground.

Frustrated, Dave ran a hand around his tense neck. "I'd love to, Prentiss. Just tell me that this bullshit idea you had was off the cuff."

"It was off the cuff," Emily nodded, stepping around him and striding toward the still running SUV, the cool air whipping against her cheeks. "Doesn't mean it's a bad plan," she called over her shoulder.

You can not physically restrain your colleague and lock her in a closet, Rossi, Dave reminded himself sternly. Not even for her safety and your sanity.

Following her into the cab of the vehicle a moment later, he had to wonder if that belief still held if he could gain Hotch's approval.

"He'll never go for it," Dave said casually a few minutes later as they drove down the interstate, his eyes glued to the road. He didn't dare look at her at this point. One of two things would happen if he did. Either he'd call her a moron and end up dead, or he'd end up kissing her and wind up fired. Either way, he wouldn't be able to protect her.

"He will if you endorse the idea," Emily returned without emotion. She couldn't afford that luxury right now. If Dave or Hotch thought she was the least bit invested beyond professionally, she was done in Indy. And she knew it.

"Do you actually think you're gonna convince me to willingly let yourself get caught by a proven whack job?" Dave snorted, his fingers clenching the leather steering wheel.

"Why, Rossi," Emily replied, lifting a brow in challenge, "Afraid you're not as good at your job as your reputation purports you to be?" she mocked as she leaned her head back against the leather headrest.

"Yeah, that's gonna work, Prentiss," Rossi replied stonily. "Disparaging my ability isn't going to induce me to put your life in danger. But if it makes you feel better, go ahead."

"If Morgan or Hotch wanted to do this, you'd support it," Emily accused, her voice hardening as her eyes dared him to lie.

She had him there. "It's different, Emily," Rossi replied evasively.

"No, it's not. I'm a fully qualified agent just like they are," Emily countered. "And it's a solid plan."

"It's not going to happen, Prentiss," Dave shook his head, shifting lanes easily as he passed a slow moving truck.

"Why?" Emily asked calmly as she watched her partner's jaw flex. "Give me one good reason." Silence reigned as Dave flipped on his blinker and exited the interstate toward the precinct they were based out of. "You can't," she smiled coldly, narrowing her eyes on him.

"Oh, I can, Prentiss. But I value my balls," Dave muttered under his breath as he navigated the busy city streets toward the station.

"I know your reasons, Rossi," Emily replied tightly, fighting to hold onto her temper. Losing control now would only reinforce his stance. "I just never took you for a sexist pig."

"This has nothing to do with your sex," Dave denied, turning into the police station's parking garage. "And has everything to do with the fact that you're emotionally involved in this case. Maybe not directly," he amended when she opened her mouth to say something, "but, close enough."

Swallowing, Emily Prentiss prepared to do something she rarely did. Waiting until he'd shoved the gear shift into park and killed the ignition, she turned beseeching eyes toward the stubborn man beside her. "Dave, please," she murmured faintly. "This is something I need to do. Kate was a special woman...she went through a lot during her teenage years...like...me."

Face softening, Dave studied Emily's wan features. "You knew her a lot better than you were letting on back there, didn't you?"

Biting her lip indecisively, Emily slowly nodded. "I told you the truth. I hadn't seen her in years. But there was a time when we were best friends."

Blowing out a long breath, Dave turned his eyes toward the windshield, staring straight ahead as his defenses slipped. "We'll run it past Hotch," he said quietly. "I won't endorse it...but I won't comment either as long as you tell him the entire story. That's the best I can offer you."

Nodding, Emily reached for her door. It wasn't a great deal, but she knew that offer was as good as it was going to get. "Okay. Let's go," she agreed.

* * *

_A/N 2 - I just wanted our loyal readers to know that due to real life events (my husband is deploying to the war in Afghanistan earlier than anticipated), our stories' postings may be a little sporadic, especially our core. I hope you will be patient with me during this difficult time._

_Tracia_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: We have a few announcements for year today. First, don't forget we have a new challenge open on the forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner". Sign-ups for our January challenge, "The Happy New Year's Challenge" is open through December 30, 2010. We'd love to have each one of you. Simply swing by the forum (you can link to it thru our profile pages) and sign up with the pairing you'd like to see written and three prompts associated with the holiday. On Jan 1, 2011, you'll be assigned a random pairing (not the one you usually write) and three prompts to write by January 30.**_

_**Thank you so much to everyone that participated in the first year of our CM Christmas Fic Exchange! We had a blast reading each really fabulous story! **_

_**Finally, if any of you have any idea for issues/activities that you'd like to see "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum tackle in the form of discussion threads and/or challenges, please let us know. We want to bring you all some really fun threads in the New Year!**_

_**As always, thank you to every reader, reviewer, and person that favorites or alerts one of our stories. Hearing from each of you means a great deal to each of us. We truly value your thoughts and opinions. Now, on with our story!**_

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Four**

Throwing his cell phone on the scarred wooden table in front of him, Aaron Hotchner bit back a curse as he glanced around the small room of the local police station. Damn, but it was times like this he really missed having a full-time media liaison. Or more specifically, he missed Jennifer Jareau. She could have handled these rabid press junkies with one hand tied behind her back.

As it was, he'd already wasted a valuable hour of time repeating the same phrase over and over. When had people ceased comprehending simple English? No comment meant no comment. It wasn't a difficult concept to understand, was it?

Looking at his watch with one hand as he grabbed his coffee cup with the other, Aaron did some mental math. Reid and Morgan should be back from the second dump site any minute and Dave and Emily would be arriving from the third. His most recent call had gone unanswered by the coroner, and he desperately hoped that Rossi and Prentiss had managed to unearth some new information. If he didn't come up with something to tell the brass soon, it had been made glaringly obvious that he'd be answering directly to Chief Strauss' boss. And if he hadn't been mistaken, the cold woman had taken barely concealed delight in delivering that mandate.

Of course, that wasn't his greatest concern.

No, that honor was given to the sociopath currently slaughtering Indianapolis' elite.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, he sighed to himself as he heard a light tap on the closed door to the makeshift war room. "Come on in, Garcia," he called, his tone even in spite of the fatigue filling his body.

"Boss, you alone?" Penelope asked, popping her red head in the door and darting her eyes around the room suspiciously.

Eyeing her warily, Hotch noted the unexpected crease in her usually smooth forehead. That could only mean one thing. More bad news. "We're alone," Hotch assured her, "Come in and close the door."

"Sorry to bug you, Boss Man, but you said to let you know as soon as I recovered anything remotely interesting," Pen apologized quickly, slipping in and popping the door closed behind her.

"It's fine, Garcia. I was just finishing returning phone calls to the press. It would be really nice if the next time I have to do that, I have something to tell them. Tell me you found something...anything," Hotch stressed, reaching for the file she held out to him.

"Oh," Penelope hesitated, scoffing her sapphire heel against the worn carpeting as she averted her gaze, "I found plenty. I'm not so sure how much you'll want to share though."

"I'm not going to like what I find in here, am I?" Hotch asked tiredly, holding up the manila file.

Pen shook her head, well aware of the Unit Chief's ability to divine the unknown. "Not even a little bit."

"Give me the highlights, Garcia," Hotch demanded evenly.

"Uhmmm...I don't know...I don't want to step on anybody's toes, Hotch," Garcia winced, taking a step backward toward the door. "Maybe you should just read the..."

"Penelope," Hotch warned, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the red-headed technical genius.

Releasing a breath, Penelope realized she'd been relegated to the status of bearer of bad news...and she hated that. This part of the job truly sucked. Drawing in a deep breath, she blurted out, "Hotch, I dug into the three victim's past just like you told me."

"And? Any connections?" Hotch asked, leveling Garcia with a piercing gaze.

"Several." Garcia nodded, lifting a hand and fidgeting with her funky beaded necklace.

"Garcia," Hotch began, striving for patience as he remembered that it took more than just a few sentences when dealing with this particular woman, "You do realize we're on a tight time table here. Our unsub has began to escalate. He could make his move any time now."

Chewing her lower lip, Garcia nodded. "I know, sir. I'm sorry. The thing is, Melinda Carmichael, Christina Regan and Kate Bosworth shared more than just a common elevated social standing. In addition to traveling within the same social set, each woman attended Claymore Preparatory Academy."

"Which is?" Hotch asked briskly, his keen ears attuned to Penelope's reluctant diatribe.

"An upscale boarding school in Connecticut. Each woman graduated from the school," Penelope informed him.

"Finally, a place to start," Hotch muttered, relief flooding him as he dropped the file onto the desk. "I want you to..."

"Sir," Penelope said, holding up a hand and stalling his coming instructions. "The all-knowing goddess can giveth more. Upon further investigative Houdini-like hacking, I learned some rather disturbing information. It appears that Melinda and Christina were best friends. They were four years ahead of Kate at the academy."

"How do you know this?" Hotch frowned, cocking his head to the side. "You haven't been talking to the families without supervision again, have you, Garcia? We discussed..."

"Sir," Garcia shook her head as she interrupted him, "this info came from super-sleuthing...not a human host. I went back into the academy's archives and pulled yearbooks. Melinda and Christina were inseparable back then. There was a falling out for a reason I've yet to unearth and while they continued to stand on equal social footing, they did not remain close after graduation. I'm looking into it."

Nodding, Hotch questioned, "And Kate? If the unsub is killing best friends, who was Kate's proverbial other half? We need to get her into protective custody and question her about those school days. There's not much time to spare, especially if she's in the Indianapolis area."

"Oh, she's here all right, Captain," Pen murmured, swallowing nervously as her eyes met the Unit Chief's.

"You've contacted her all ready?" Hotch asked hopefully. "Is she on her way in?"

"Uhmm...yes, but no," Pen cringed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Penelope, on most days I find this game of cat and mouse we play endearing," Hotch stated, his voice deceptively low. "Today, sweetheart...not one of those days."

"I know, I know," Pen nodded, taking a deep breath before blurting. "We didn't have to call her because she's already on her way here, Hotch. Emily was Kate's best friend for eight years, beginning in sixth grade, based on my research."

Eyes widening, Hotch blinked slowly. "Emily, as in, Prentiss?" he thundered, his voice echoing in the small room.

"Yeah," Garcia said in a small voice.

"Tell me she didn't know the victim's identity when she headed to the scene with Rossi," Hotch demanded, rising from his chair.

"No! No, sir! Absolutely not! All the officers that called it in said was they had a body that someone from the Bureau needed to take a look at. Rossi was here and he said that he and Em would take it," Pen explained quickly.

"But Prentiss knew the other two victims...and she already knew their identities," Hotch growled, his cheeks flushing with anger.

"I don't think Emily tried to circumvent any rules, Sir. I saw her face when you all did the preliminary profile. She didn't recognize those names," Garcia loyally defended her friend.

Nodding once, Hotch ordered, "Get back on it, Garcia. Anything you find out, I want to know first. Start four years prior to Melinda's enrollment at the Academy and go through eight years after Prentiss graduated...look for anybody with any priors. Teachers and students alike...maintenance men. Anybody that had any business on the campus. We'll start there."

"Yes, sir," Penelope bobbed her head, scurrying from the room, sparing one look over her shoulder at an irate Aaron Hotchner.

Garcia certainly hoped the force was with her perky profiling pal.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**_** "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum would like to announce that we have opened signups for our first annual "Valentine's Fic Gift Exchange". Signups are thru January 31st and assignments will be made on February 1st for this one. Simply name the pairings you are willing to write, the pairing you would like to receive as a gift, one famous love song and three Valentine's Day prompts.**_

_**Finally, new Fortune Cookie prompts are available at the forum for those of us that need a kick start to our writing muses.**_

_**As ever, thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and alerting our stories. We truly appreciate each one of you. And because I haven't said it in a while, we (neither ilovetvalot or tonnie2001969) own Criminal Minds (though we really wish we did).**_

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Five**

Aaron Hotchner spent the next fifteen minutes scanning the file Garcia had compiled, his eyes critically reviewing every word. Nodding to himself, he had to give the redheaded whirlwind credit...she knew how to dig. And she'd definitely hit the high points. Based on what he'd read, all three victims in their current case had been exceptionally bright women, graduating with honors and going on to lucrative careers, often outdoing their male counterparts in their respective jobs. That trend had to begin somewhere, and he suspected the Claymore Academy was the origin.

Successful women often became an unsub's target. They were perceived threats and, thus, needed to be eliminated. But what kind of mind held that kind of grudge for that many years and never acted on it?

Something...some event or trauma had sent the man in question spiraling. If they could pinpoint that incident, they might have a chance of finding him before he acted again, ostensibly on Emily Prentiss.

Pressing his lips again, Aaron flipped the pages of the report. There had to be something more connecting these women other than mere friendship...some connection to the unsub himself.

Unfortunately, only one person he could think of might hold those answers. And she was late, Hotch thought sourly, glancing at his watch again. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, Hotch squeezed his eyes closed, attempting to forestall the headache that was threatening to break free from behind his throbbing temple. Christ, when the press connected the dots between Emily and these tragic murders, there was going to be a media frenzy…one he was going to be hard pressed to control.

Shaking his head, he realized he needed to steady his nerves before the upcoming confrontation he had scheduled with his subordinate. And that was going to require some caffeinated assistance. Glaring grimly at his empty coffee cup, he opened the door to the makeshift war room...and ran headlong into yet another - and perhaps the biggest - hindrance to progress so far.

Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. The mother of his subordinate. And an international force in her own right.

"Agent Hotchner," Ambassador Prentiss said with a regal incline of her dark head, "I was told that you would be expecting me," she informed him coolly, brushing past him into the room, her heavy winter coat trailing behind her.

From bad to worse, Hotch thought grimly as he turned back toward the interloper. "Pardon, ma'am. Due respect, but I haven't received any communication from your office. Or mine."

"Strange," the Ambassador replied casually as she shrugged. "I spoke to Chief Strauss an hour ago. She assured me that you'd be apprised of my interest in this case. I am, after all, from this area, as is my husband."

"Unfortunately there seems to be some miscommunication between DC and Indianapolis today, Ambassador," Hotch replied stiffly, his hand gripping the back of one of the wooden chairs surrounding the round table.

"Obviously. Hopefully I can clarify some of it for you, Agent Hotchner. May I sit?" Ambassador Prentiss asked, gesturing at the table as she moved toward the uncomfortable looking ladder back chairs. Looking around the room, Elizabeth inhaled deeply. She hated police stations...the sounds...the smells...the battered furniture. It brought back way too many memories of her daughter's often misspent youth. For a run of several years, Emily had seemed to take a perverse joy in landing herself in precincts exactly like this one, calling her in the middle of the night for one indiscretion or another. In hindsight, Elizabeth could recognize it for the cry for attention that it was. At the time, however, it had simply been an inconvenience that had put her dentist's children through college, her propensity for grinding her teeth a source of constant income for him.

"Of course," Aaron nodded, carefully keeping his impassive mask in place, well aware of showing any form of weakness in front of such an adversary. "Although, due respect, ma'am, but I don't see where hailing from this area gives you any particular insight to this case."

Smiling faintly, Ambassador Prentiss raised one eyebrow at Aaron. "Your poker face is slipping in your advanced years, Agent Hotchner. We both know my connections to this case run more deeply than that...or perhaps Ms. Garcia's skills are lagging as well," she added archly, shrugging out of her jacket and settling further into the rigid seat.

"We both know that is unlikely," Hotch said coldly, always ready to defend his team if not himself.

"We do," Elizabeth nodded, her coiffed hair not moving a centimeter. "And I'm sure by now, you've realized my daughter's connection to this case."

"I can't comment on any developments we've made in the case, Ambassador," Hotch replied stonily, his hackles rising at Emily's mother's slightly superior tone. While the woman might command respect in the halls of the State Department, her authority did not extend to his department…and he had informed her of that exact truth once before.

"Would you care to call your Section Chief and make certain you're right about that?" the Ambassador asked, her even-toned words hovering below a threat. Watching Hotch's jaw flex, she sighed, relenting slightly. "I have information that might be helpful, Agent Hotchner. In case you've forgotten your time on my protective detail, I'm a very well connected woman. So is my husband. And most importantly, so is my daughter. And while our relationship might be...strained, I want her to remain safe."

"You think Emily is a target?" Hotch asked bluntly, his shoulders stiffening as he watched the Ambassador's face clench. His fears from earlier had come back to the surface quickly.

"You don't?" the Ambassador asked with a disbelieving sniff.

"Ambassador, perhaps I need to clarify the Bureau's stance. If you have pertinent information to this case, you need to share it with us. We, however, have no duty to share what we know with you."

"I wouldn't recommend stonewalling me, Agent Hotchner," Elizabeth retorted, her voice laced with steel as she squared her shoulders, her posture indicating her preparation for the coming battle. "I think we both know that ultimately I'll get to the inside track, with or without your assistance."

"Madam, I assure you that no one is trying to do anything of the sort. However, I believe you're aware that the Bureau isn't in the habit of sharing information with civilians."

"But I'm not just any civilian, am I?" the Ambassador inquired haughtily.

"Why do you think Emily is a target, Ambassador?" Hotch asked flatly, unwilling to gave to the snide woman's veiled threats. "To my knowledge, there's no more than the most cursory connection here," Aaron lied, watching the other woman carefully.

"Cursory connection?" the Ambassador echoed incredulously. "If you really believe that, Agent Hotchner, then I believe I got here at just the right time."

"Do tell," Aaron invited, nodding slightly as he took the seat opposite Emily's mother.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: **__**Calling all readers! Join us for our Awesome January Awards...to recognize and honor the best fics written for any of the challenges on "**__**Chit Chat**__** on Author's Corner" forum! All you have to do is send the title of your favorite fic (and author who wrote it) that was written for a challenge to either ilovetvalot or tonnie2001969's private message inbox. Stories by ilovetvalot and tonnie2001969 are not eligible for competition. Only one vote per person! For more details and full rules, visit Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. You don't need to be an author to vote, simply visit the forum and review our challenge threads (stories are already and the threads will be pinned to the top of the page). So, everyone, come on over and lets have some fun. Voting commences now and ends January 31, 2011. Awards will be given for first, second and third place.**_

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_**Again, thanks for bearing with me, my fanfic friends!**_

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Six**

Pursing her lips, Ambassador Prentiss looked around the room, her disdain for the décor mingling with her obvious concern. "Where is my daughter, Agent Hotchner? She's safe, isn't she?" she asked, her brow creasing, indicating her worry.

"She's with Agent Rossi," Hotch replied slowly, measuring his words as he determined exactly which direction this conversation was heading. "They're currently on their way back to the precinct. So, if you wish this conversation to remain entirely private, I'd suggest you begin talking."

Lifting her lips slightly, Elizabeth inclined her head. "You always were very no-nonsense. I always appreciated that about you." Sighing heavily, her shoulders slumping for a bare moment, the Ambassador murmured, "Do what you need to do with the information I give you, Agent. My primary objective is ensuring my daughter's safety."

"Ma'am, why are you so convinced your daughter is in danger?" Hotch asked bluntly, eyeing the obviously concerned woman across from him curiously. His gut twisted as his mind recognized the fact that if a woman as cool and poised as Elizabeth Prentiss was discomfited, the situation was, indeed, dire.

"These women," Ambassador Prentiss stated, gesturing toward the photographs tacked to the wall behind her of the first three victims, "They were all connected. You realize that already, correct?"

"Each woman attended a private boarding school," Hotch replied neutrally as he nodded.

"Claymore," the Ambassador supplied with a nod of her own. "The very best boarding school money could buy. Excellent scholastics...and for girls, it was also a finishing school of a sort. At least, prior to the co-ed movement, it was," she explained, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "At any rate, the connection is deeper than a mere alma mater. Christina and Melinda were best friends in those days. As were Kate and Emily. And all four women shared another commonality."

"Which was?" Hotch frowned, willing himself to be patient and allow the Ambassador to come to her point. Glancing at the clock hanging above her head, he hoped it would be quickly. It was only a matter of time before the unsub killed again. And if there was information that could possibly halt that escalation, he needed to know immediately.

Licking her lips, Elizabeth met Hotch's gaze. "Agent Hotchner, I believe I may know the identity of your unsub."

Lifting his chin as he met Emily's mother's steady gaze, Aaron attempted to control the surprise that was certain to be expressed in his eyes. "Who?"

"His name is Adrian Parker," the Ambassador replied precisely, the name rolling off her tongue with ease. "He's the connection to all four girls, my daughter included."

"Ambassador, I don't think I need to point out that there are probably dozens of individuals that knew all three of the victims. Scores of individuals can be linked to them. They attended the same school," Hotch said carefully. "Why would you single this one person out above the others?"

"I'm a politician, Agent Hotchner. I've learned the value of not making even the lightest accusation in my career," Elizabeth informed him stiffly, her hands folded primly in her lap. "But, here, in this moment, I'm a mother. A very frightened mother. You need to concentrate your investigation on this man," she said, slipping an 8x10 glossy photograph of a smiling, professionally dressed African American man from her bag. "If he isn't responsible, believe me, somehow he fits into this equation."

Glancing down at the picture, Hotch nodded. "I'm taking you seriously, ma'am. But, I'm going to need a good reason to allocate our resources in this direction," he said, tapping the picture. Looking down at the photograph again, he found an average man staring back at him. Although, in his experience, some of the most dangerous criminals on earth came in entirely too innocent looking packages.

"The story is quite...sordid," Elizabeth replied, her voice suddenly shifting from controlled to uncomfortable. "And Emily is going to say that my suspicion is laughable."

"Regardless," Hotch said, lifting his eyes to meet hers, "I'm going to need to hear it. I'll judge if it's a credible threat or not."

Nodding, Elizabeth said, "Adrian Parker entered Claymore during Emily's freshman year. He was the first racially diverse student ever admitted. His father was an up and coming cardiologist on Manhattan's Upper East side. As you can imagine, at that time, people weren't quite as accepting of things..."

"Meaning you had a lot of bigots that didn't like to see their perfectly white school go color blind," Hotch surmised.

"In short. I'm not saying that Emily's father and I went along with it. On the contrary, we advocated for Adrian's enrollment. Along with several other families."

"Go on," Hotch invited as she fell silent, gesturing for her to continue.

"At any rate, Adrian was two years older than Emily, but they still became fast friends. And while parents might have had an issue with Adrian's admittance to the school, most of the children did not. Especially the girls," she said, nodding down at the picture of an attractive Adrian Parker.

"I see," Hotch murmured, a picture forming in his mind...not necessarily one he liked. "Are you saying all three women were involved with this man?" he asked, tapping his finger against the glossy paper.

"I'm saying that each woman on the wall behind me had intimate knowledge of him," Elizabeth nodded. Licking her lips, she continued, "In fact, Melinda and Christina had a falling out over him during their Senior year."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, evidently, both girls found out each was seeing Adrian when Melinda found out she was pregnant."

"There's no record that Melinda has a child, Ambassador," Hotch stated quietly, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the woman's expression.

"Of course there isn't," Elizabeth admitted as she shrugged. "Melinda's parents very quietly handled the incident. Or at least it was handled. During the Senator's most recent campaign for re-election, he took an anti-abortion stand. His opponent broke the story of Melinda's unfortunate choice. It being said in certain circles that Christina was the leak."

"I'm assuming Mr. Parker knew nothing of the pregnancy," Hotch murmured.

The Ambassador shook her head. "No, he did not."

"When did this story break, Ambassador?" Hotch asked pointedly, mentally replaying the timeline for the deaths in his mind.

"Two weeks before Christina was murdered," Elizabeth replied flatly.

"And Kate? How does she fit?" Hotch asked.

"After his relationship with Melinda and Crissy dissolved, Adrian became involved with Kate. Emily introduced them. That relationship, too, was intimate in nature."

"And Emily's relationship with this man?" Hotch inquired.

"Platonic, as far as I know. But Kate and Emily were as close as Christina and Melinda once were, Agent Hotchner. And they, too, had a falling out over Mr. Parker," the Ambassador revealed.

"And the source of that rift was?" Hotch asked as the door behind him opened.

* * *

_**Dedicated to Our Nation's Great Heroes...one of which belongs to me!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note: I want to thank our loyal readers that are sticking with us. I know my postings are sporadic these days and I apologize for it. I've received a couple of negative anonymous reviews over that very issue. Real life, especially mine, is complicated. Going from a loving two parent household to a single parent with a husband fighting in a dangerous war is difficult. I'm not asking for sympathy, just please be patient. I promise, I'm writing as fast as I can, but I want to bring you guys something of quality instead of garbage I wrote on the fly.**_

_**Also, we have two new open discussion threads. One is called, "Cyclones, Snowmageddon, and Egyptian Uprisings, OH MY!" Feel free to leave your best wishes for our friends in Australia and throughout the US suffering from the ravaging affects of Mother Nature. **_

_**And finally, as some of you may or may not know, there are some changes coming for our favorite show and we have opened a "Show Spoilers" thread for readers and authors to discuss their take on episodes and upcoming plotlines.**_

_**As ever, I don't own Criminal Minds.**_

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**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Seven**

"None of your damned business because it has absolutely no bearing on this case," Emily Prentiss spat as she strode into the small room, followed by an obviously irritated David Rossi. Glaring at her mother, she hissed, "Why the hell are you here, Mother?"

"Your mother had some details regarding this case to share with us. Details I would have expected to hear from you, Agent Prentiss. And regarding your previous statement, anything that pertains to this case is entirely my business," Hotch replied evenly but sternly, his dark eyes flashing as he stared at his less than forthcoming agent.

"What she's proposing is ridiculous, Hotch," Emily declared as she shook her head, her lips tightening as she glared at her unit chief. "Adrian didn't have anything to do with these murders. I know it and so does she," she said, pointing an accusing finger at her mother.

"That man is dangerous, Emily," the Ambassador said stiffly, meeting her daughter's eyes. "And well you know it. Or does your selective memory choose not to recall the fact that he was arrested before for violence against a woman?"

"Those charges were fabricated and you know it," Emily replied coldly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What charges?" Hotch barked, looking from Emily to her mother.

"He was arrested for attempted rape, Agent Hotchner," Elizabeth informed him, her cool voice sharp enough to split ice.

"And he was exonerated. That woman dropped the charges," Emily huffed, narrowing her eyes as she stared down at her still seated mother.

"That doesn't mean he was exonerated, Emily," Elizabeth retorted impatiently, waving a hand in the air as if to simply dismiss the possibility. "It might very well mean she was paid to simply cease speaking of it. Do you realize your loyalty to this man might very well get you killed?"

"I have a reason to be loyal to him, Mother," Emily said stiffly. "And you know it."

"I know that I refuse to stand idly by while my daughter plays Russian roulette with her life," the Ambassador replied stiffly. "If you won't recognize the risk, I shall be happy to do so for you."

Ignoring her mother, Emily turned to her Unit Chief, her flashing eyes meeting his. "This is stupid, Hotch. Adrian has nothing to do with this. Don't allow my mother's conspiracy theories to derail our investigation and waste our time."

"So far, I'm more inclined to listen to your mother, Emily, given the fact that you've proven less than forthcoming regarding pertinent details of this case," Hotch rebuked, his jaw clenching with anger. "You know better," he added pointedly.

"Adrian is innocent," Emily said simply, looking from Hotch to Dave, her eyes pleading for assistance.

"If what you say is true, then he should alibi out," Dave reasoned evenly, leaning against the nearby bookcase as he glanced from one team member to another. "We get the guy in here and get his story. Seems pretty simple. Garcia should be able to verify his story in a couple of hours if he's forthcoming."

"He's a professional, Dave. How will it look for the FBI to show up at his office asking questions?" Emily argued.

"Since when have we ever worried about a suspect's feelings when we're trying to get answers? There's a killer on the loose, I don't give a fuck about appearances." Dave frowned, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to read through her crusty exterior. "What the hell is wrong with you, Prentiss? Have you missed the fact that you could very well be the next vic on this psycho's hit list?" he asked incredulously.

"I'm well aware of that fact! Which is why I don't think any of us need to spend needless time and energy questioning an innocent man," Emily retorted fiercely.

"You know what I think?" Dave asked angrily, taking a step toward the vehement woman. "I think your judgment has been compromised. You can't be impartial here, Prentiss."

"I beg your pardon," Emily seethed, her eyes darkening as she turned toward her accuser.

"You heard me," Dave challenged, his shoulders stiffening as he stared down at his friend and colleague. "You're willing to ignore the fact that a guy with what sounds like pretty good motive could very well be our unsub. You are compromised."

"Dave's right, Prentiss," Hotch offered with a grim nod, his arms crossed over his chest. "Until your friend is cleared, you'll take an inactive role in this investigation," he said, his voice intractable.

"You can't be serious," Emily gaped, looking from man to man.

"You will, however, be expected to give us your version of the events your mother has mentioned," Hotch stated evenly. "And I expect you to be entirely cooperative. Otherwise, you'll force me to take disciplinary action regarding your hesitance in contributing valuable information to this case."

Breathing deeply as she tamped down on her temper, Emily nodded. "I'd like to speak to my mother first, if you don't mind," she requested tersely.

"Time is of the essence, here, Prentiss. Dave and I will go get started on requesting Mr. Parker's presence here this afternoon," Hotch informed her deeply, his eyes conveying his displeasure.

"I'll meet you outside at the bench in twenty minutes," Dave growled. "Consider yourself in protective custody from that point forward, Prentiss," he said, following Hotch from the room, closing the door behind him with a decisive click.

Turning, Emily eyed her mother angrily. "Do you get some kind of sick thrill out of humiliating me, Mother?" she asked bitterly as she stared at the woman who had been the bane of her existence for the majority of her life.

Lifting her chin, Elizabeth Prentiss faced her daughter without shame. "I did what I felt was necessary, Emily. You certainly wouldn't have heeded my warning if I'd bothered offering it to you, would you?"

"You know this is crap, Mother," Emily snapped, pacing from one side of the table to the other.

"If you choose to continue speaking to me with that common tongue, Emily, you and I will have nothing further to say. I'm still your mother contrary to your fervent wish otherwise. I will not tolerate insolence."

"I'm not ten anymore mother. You don't get to make dictates anymore."

"I think I've just proven that I can. Quite successfully, I might add," the Ambassador remarked, raising a brow. "Emily, I learned long ago not to allow that attitude of yours to affect my actions. You're only daunting to those that don't know you."

"He's innocent, Mother," Emily stated softly, her body suddenly weary as she sank into a chair.

"Then your colleagues will prove it. And as I told Agent Hotchner, even if he is innocent, Adrian is involved, Emily. It's too coincidental to believe anything else.

And rubbing her brow, Emily Prentiss knew her mother was right. Even if she hated to admit that very fact.

* * *

_**Dedicated to Our Brave Men and Women Fighting Overseas!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has been patiently waiting for our stories to be posted. We appreciate your support and apologize for any delays. Real life, however, has taken precedence! We always want to be able to provide you with quality stories and chapters, so our postings may be a bit sporadic over the next month.**_

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_**As always, we do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters that we so enjoy writing. If we did own them, we would have never had JJ leave!**_

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Eight**

"You should have come to me first, Mother," Emily replied evenly, her voice never wavering as she stared into her mother's cool eyes. "If you had suspicions, you should have taken the time to tell me first. Not make a fool of me in front of my boss and my colleagues."

"Would you have listened, Emily? Can you honestly sit there and tell me that you would have heard me out and taken me seriously? You're already convinced of your friend's innocence, despite the fact that all these deaths can be linked to him in some way. You'd have laughed in my face," the Ambassador argued, her normally pale cheeks flushing slightly.

"I guess we'll never know now, will we?" Emily retorted. Damn, now she sounded like a recalcitrant child rather than the professional, poised woman she was. But, damn it, this was what her mother's regal presence did to her. It always had. Lifting her hands to massage her temples, Emily sighed. "Look, Mom...I know you were doing what you thought was best, but..."

"There aren't any "buts" here, Emily," Elizabeth denied, shaking her head as she interrupted. "Whether you like it or not, I'm always going to be your mother. You can ignore me, dismiss me, be outright hostile toward me...at the end of the day, I'm still the woman that gave you life. And as such, it's my job until I draw my last breath to at least attempt to protect you. Even if you balk."

"Why this sudden feigned interest in my well-being, Mother?" Emily asked distrustfully, eyes narrowing. "Is Father going to be campaigning soon for something? Do you need a photo-op?"

"Is that honestly what you think?" Elizabeth winced, not for the first time wondering how her stilted relationship with her daughter had eroded into this. "You think I don't care about you? That I don't worry about you?"

"You're a cat, Mother. No matter what happens...to anyone...you'll land on your feet," Emily retorted sarcastically. Stop it, Em, she chided herself. If you go on the attack, she going to know that she's successfully getting to you.

"You have no idea how very wrong you are, Emily Elizabeth," the Ambassador stated sadly. "You're my daughter."

"I was an object in your extensive collection of possessions, Mom. Don't try to write a revisionist history," Emily snorted, slamming her palms against the table. "Not at this late date."

"Emily," Elizabeth sighed, reaching her hand across the table to touch Emily's, "I'm aware how far I fell short in the area of being maternal. When you were born, I was at the height of my career. I had no idea how to be a nurturing influence. But none of that means that I did not love you. I do. You have to know that. And any choices I've made, here and in the past, were with your best intentions in my heart."

"You've effectively made me look like an incompetent fool today, Mother. I don't exactly feel the love," Emily snapped, her eyes flashing even though the Ambassador's words had affected her. But, from experience, she knew if you gave a woman like Elizabeth Prentiss a single inch, she'd take an entire mile before you realized what was happening.

Exhaling heavily, Elizabeth murmured, "I am very sorry that you see it that way. But if the choice is between incurring your wrath and keeping you safe, I think you know which option I'll choose."

"You've made that patently obvious," Emily returned coldly, her shoulders stiffening. "But you've made a terrible mistake."

"Then I'm sure that it won't take your team very long to show me the error of my suspicions," Elizabeth replied easily. "In the meantime, I did arrange for a peace offering that should be arriving shortly."

"A peace offering," Emily rolled her eyes, frustrated, her mother's attempts at reconciliation less than welcom. "Are you kidding me, Mom? I think I'm past the age where you can offer me a lollipop and avoid the temper tantrum, don't you?"

"I really hope that I'm better than candy," a soft voice spoke from the doorway.

Jaw dropping as she recognized that voice, Emily froze in her seat as she stared across the table at her faintly smiling mother. Blinking rapidly, she slowly turned.

"Do come in, Agent Jareau. I hope you had a satisfactory flight," Elizabeth nodded to the young blonde standing framed in the doorway.

"JJ!" Emily gasped gratefully, flying out of her chair to hug her best friend. "What...how...?" she shook her head, drawing back to look at the smiling woman.

"Your mother pulled a few very influential strings," JJ whispered, almost glowing as she returned Emily's hug. "Evidently she has untold powers that both Rossi and Hotch didn't possess. I'm back on the team."

"Temporarily or..." Emily began, clutching her friend's hand.

"Agent Jareau's reassignment is permanent, Emily," Elizabeth stated from behind her daughter. "You're welcome. Out of curiosity, is this an acceptable apology?"

"You'd have to be sorry for it to be an apology, Mother," Emily snorted over her shoulder, her earlier anger still present. "But it is a start," she offered softly, relenting slightly. "Does Hotch..."

"No one knows yet," JJ answered as she shook her head. "It appears the Ambassador meant me to be a surprise to everyone."

"I'm desperately hoping that undying gratitude might make your team more amenable to keeping my daughter safe," Elizabeth stated truthfully, meeting her daughter's eyes.

Closing her eyes, Emily shook her head. Her mother was hopeless. "I'm not in danger, Mother."

"Actually, based on the files that your Mom provided," JJ murmured, squeezing Emily's hand, "I'm a little worried myself."

"Taking up with the enemy?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

"Perhaps your friend is just willing to examine your current case from all possible angles," Elizabeth commented pointedly, scooting her chair back from the table.

"Okay," JJ said, sliding between the two women as a buffer. "Maybe we should go tell the team that their media liaison has returned from the land of Defense Department hell," JJ suggested with a smile.

"I'll touch base with you later, Emily. I've a meeting with your father in an hour," Elizabeth said, rising from the table with one fluid motion. "I trust someone will contact me if there are any further developments."

"Of course," JJ smiled tightly, squeezing Emily's hand warningly as she heard her friend draw in a deep breath.

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied, inclining her head before sweeping from the room.

Waiting until the door had closed, JJ turned sharply toward Emily, eyeing her critically. "Okay," she said slowly. "Do you want to tell me exactly what in the hell is going on?"


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has been patiently waiting for our stories to be posted. We appreciate your support and apologize for any delays. Real life, however, has taken precedence! We always want to be able to provide you with quality stories and chapters, so our postings may be a bit sporadic over the next month.**_

_**Please...check out our new forum topic: A Fanfic Glossary! We want to know if you guys find it helpful and our topic thread "Our Stance on the 2010 Criminal Minds Fanfic Awards". We have also opened a Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior thread where you may discuss the show (respectfully, of course). We also have a forum announcing our fellow author's (Kathi1C) new IheartCriminalMinds blog. You can ask her questions and get directions on going to her site. We also have SEVERAL NEW THREADS on our forum. Please check them out. We'll also have our "April Fools" challenge up shortly!**_

_**As always, we do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters that we so enjoy writing. If we did own them, we would have never had JJ leave!**_

_**And please, swing by my profile page and take my latest poll. I'm thinking of revisiting some of my older stories and would like your opinion. You guys mean the world to us!**_

_**Let me know what ya'll think!**_

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Nine**

"I don't know what you mean," Emily replied uneasily as she pulled her hand away, crossing her arms over her chest.

Narrowing her eyes as she stared at her best friend, Jennifer Jareau shook her head. "Nuh uh, Prentiss. You can't pull that bull crap on me. I've been there and done that with you before, and lived to get the tee shirt." Before Emily could object once again, JJ wagged her finger in the air. "Lest you forget, I just received a firsthand lesson in the power that is Mama Prentiss. She doesn't pull those type of moves unless she thinks it will gain her something. In this case, it was protecting her daughter."

"Or herself," Emily muttered, her lips pressed together as she glanced down at the industrial linoleum.

"Emily," JJ hissed, grabbing her best friend's arm and pulling her into a corner of the room, "she took on the freaking Secretary of Defense. Single handedly. A woman doesn't do that just for shits and giggles and you know it!"

"She does," a deep voice said from the doorway, "she just refuses to admit it. Hello, JJ," David Rossi greeted the younger woman as he stepped fully into the small room. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Didn't you say that you'd wait for me?" Emily glared from the corner, her less-than thrilled tone informing all involved of her current displeasure with the state of events.

"I bore easily," Dave shrugged, closing the door behind him with a loud click and leaning against it. "By the way, your mother said to tell you that she expects hourly reports."

"My mother can kiss my..."

"Em!" JJ shouted, waving her hands as she attempted to stall the other woman's obvious meltdown. "Your mother just dragged me out of Washington, got me my old job back and the only explanation she'd give me was that you'd explain. So explain!" she demanded, jabbing a finger in the air.

"Yes, Emily. Explain," Rossi drawled, his dark eyes boring into hers.

Licking her lips, Emily paced the room, her rubber-soled boots barely making a sound against the linoleum. "This is absolutely ridiculous."

"I couldn't agree more," Dave agreed as he nodded. "Wasting time while some maniac is out murdering friends and acquaintances of yours while you throw a temper tantrum like a three year old is rather ludicrous."

"WHAT?" JJ gasped, her eyes widening as her head whipped toward Dave.

"Our Emily has been keeping secrets," Dave chided sarcastically, glaring at the recalcitrant member of their team. "Haven't you, Emily?" he asked, his gaze narrowing on the woman virtually vibrating with anger.

"Emily, what is he talking about?" JJ asked sharply, her hands landing on her hips as she faced the older woman.

Exhaling a shaky breath, Emily's eyes shot daggers across the room at Dave. "I'm trying here, Rossi," she bit out through clenched teeth, her breaths shallow.

"There is do and there is do not. There is no try, Emily," Dave replied evenly.

"Well, thank you, Yoda, for the not-so-helpful advice," Emily sneered.

Stepping between her two colleagues, JJ looked from one to the other. "Well, let me warn you both. Somebody is gonna need something more powerful than the freaking force to survive if they don't start talking soon."

Looking from Emily's clenched face to JJ's visibly worried one, Dave explained calmly, "It seems our friend, Emily, might have attracted the attention of a serial killer. But, she's in denial," Dave stressed, arching one brow.

"I'm not denying anything except the fact that you idiots want to go charging after the wrong guy," Emily snapped. "My involvement here could be merely coincidental."

"Do you really believe that?" Dave snarled, stepping forward in spite of JJ's attempt to separate them. "Really? Because if you do, you're in a hell of a lot more danger than your mother or anybody else here thought!"

Electricity crackled in the confined space as JJ swallowed slowly. "Okay," she said softly, inserting herself one again between what appeared to be two warring factions. "Let's all just take a deep breath for a second."

"You breathe," Dave growled, shaking his head. "I want answers. Starting with why our colleague has been hiding pertinent facts to this case and is intent on covering a suspect's ass!"

"He isn't a suspect, Rossi," Emily retorted. "He's simply your best lead at the moment. That doesn't make him guilty."

Inhaling deeply, JJ held up a hand. "Look, I'm a little late to the party here. Somebody needs to catch me up. Preferably before the press descends on me like locusts," she added pointedly.

"Excellent idea," Dave nodded, pulling out a chair from the table, the legs scraping annoying against the scarred floor. "We'll kill two birds with one stone. Emily, you can explain your history to both of us."

Narrowing her gaze, she snorted, "Why? You seem to have it all figured out, don't you, Rossi?"

"Well, I don't," JJ interceded, dropping into the nearest chair.

"Start with Claymore and your relation to it," Dave suggested, gesturing toward the chair across from him.

Rolling her eyes, Emily reached for the chair and threw herself into it. "What about it, Rossi? It's my alma mater. The quintessential boarding school to the elite and my own personal hell for two and a half years. Adrian made it bearable."

"You went there after your mother's post in Italy?" Dave asked conversationally, hating himself for pushing so hard. But, damn it, whether Emily Prentiss would admit it or not, her life was in danger. And that wasn't something he was willing to sit around and ignore, despite her preference for him to do just that.

"Yes," Emily affirmed through tight lips. "It was a rather tumultuous time in my life," she answered vaguely. Of all the things she'd planned today, a walk down memory lane...particularly this lane...was the last thing she'd ever imagined doing. Especially with this man that already knew way too much about her.

"The teenage years typically are," JJ consoled, reaching across the desk and patting Emily's hand.

Locking eyes with Dave, Emily stared at him, willing him to keep her secret for exactly why those dark days had been so difficult. As if to tell her he'd keep her secret, he nodded slightly.

"Go on," he offered softly.

"I had a difficult time fitting in," Emily admitted slowly as she shrugged. "But, because of who I was, who my mother was, people made an effort to be nice to me. Nobody wants to offend a diplomat's daughter, you know," she reminisced bitterly.

"And that's where you met the first two victims," JJ asked, glancing up from the file she consulted, sensing Emily's hesitance wasn't strictly centered around these women's deaths.

"Yeah," Emily confirmed. "Claymore was where it all began. Compliments of my lovely mother."


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note: So, it's been a while, our friends. Sorry for the delay in posting. But, I swear, I think my co-author and I have found a way to keep writing. **__**Ton and I have devised a new strategy. With eleven ongoing epics (and two more that we had not even began to post yet), we've come up with a plan. Each month we are going to concentrate on bringing you chapters of FOUR of the eleven stories we have out there. Each month, we'll alternate. Now, that doesn't mean that you won't get the odd chapter of the other seven stories ongoing during the month if the muse cooperates, but we want to bring you well written material and we think this will help. You'll also see oneshots, challenge pieces, and post eps (especially with our Shakespeare Series) during the month, too, but we'll only concentrate on four epics during any month. Make sense? I hope so.**_

_**For the month of April, we'll be concentrating on the epics, "Southern Traditions", "The Girl Who Lived", "In Sunshine or In Shadow", and "Sweet Silver Lining".**_

_**At any rate, those of you not familiar with our work, please swing by our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" for ongoing discussion threads and challenges. We'd love to have you.**_

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Ten**

Aaron Hotchner blinked twice as he stared across the small office that had been assigned to him. Unless he was mistaken, he was seeing the signs of a smile on Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss' face. And in his world, that ranked on the same scale as the possibilities of life being found on Pluto or Erin Strauss suddenly winning Miss Congeniality at the Miss Universe contest.

Which was to say...negligible.

Clearing his throat as the woman in question approached him, her steps sure and certain, he asked warily, "Something changed, Ambassador?"

"For the better, Agent Hotchner," the senior Prentiss stated, her voice calm and even. "My daughter apparently needed a push in the right direction. I just provided the impetus."

"Dare I ask what methods you deemed suitable for such an endeavor?" Hotch replied, his tone just as professional.

"I think you'll approve. I've heard the rumblings around Washington ever since Agent Jareau was reassigned. I just took care of two problems with one phone call."

"Agent Jareau? What does JJ have to do with this case?"

"Everything now," Elizabeth Prentiss assured him, tilting her head in an exact imitation of her daughter's known expression. "You need a press liaison. My daughter needs a confidante that speaks her language. I am mature enough to admit when help is needed, Agent Hotchner, and wise enough to recognize and employ the best options. Agent Jareau returning to your unit was the best option."

"JJ? Did you just say that JJ's been reassigned to the Behavioral Analysis Unit?" Hotch echoed incredulously.

"Mmm," the Ambassador nodded, opening her expensive black bag and extracting a manila folder. "Her paperwork," she said, handing over the forms to the Unit Chief. "Effective immediately."

"How did you..." Hotch began, his eyes already avidly scanning the documents, his hopes growing as he recognized the necessary bureaucratic terms.

"Do you really want to know answers to questions that don't matter? Suffice it to say that the deed is done. Agent Jareau belongs to you and your team once again, Agent Hotchner. Now, I hope you see this as the act of goodwill that it was intended to be, but..."

"But you don't expect to do something for nothing," Hotch interrupted as he frowned. "Ambassador, I'll keep you informed as much as Bureau protocol provides for, but if you're looking for the inside track..."

"I'm not," Elizabeth stated softly, her brow furrowing. "I am looking to you to keep my daughter safe. Whether the criminal is who I assume it to be or not, I think we can agree that Emily's relationship with the other victims isn't merely incidental. I want her taken care of."

Part of Hotch ached to ask the woman when exactly she'd developed this sudden maternal streak, but the wiser agent in him simply nodded. "We're a close knit team, ma'am. We'll do everything we can to bring a hasty resolution to this case with all our agents intact."

"Has anyone ever told you that you might try a little harder to be reassuring, young man?" Elizabeth asked haughtily, her shoulders stiffening beneath her tailored jacket.

"Due respect, madam, but if you'll recall, this is me being reassuring," Hotch returned evenly.

Looking Aaron over from head to toe with pursed lips, the Ambassador finally shook her head. "I've taken a suite at the Regency, Agent Hotchner. If there are any developments with my daughter..."

"We'll let you know what we can as we can," Hotch replied, not giving an inch.

An astute woman, Elizabeth Prentiss had learned long ago never to wear out a welcome. "I'll expect your phone call then," she said with a long stare at Emily's superior before sweeping from the office.

Staring at the empty doorway, the Ambassador's expensive perfume lingering subtly in her wake, Aaron Hotchner slowly shook his head before sinking back into the desk chair he'd procured.

JJ was back. Emily was in danger. And Rossi was on the warpath.

Talk about business as usual, he snorted to himself as he scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes. At least now he had someone to run interference between the team and the press. At least as soon as JJ was briefed.

"Well, hello, stranger," a familiar dulcet voice spoke from behind him.

Jerking his head up, Aaron turned in his seat. "JJ! Thank God," he groaned, rising from his chair again.

"So have you heard the news?" she asked, walking into the small office and closing the door behind her.

"I did. The Ambassador informed me of your change in status as she was leaving," Hotch nodded. Staring at JJ, he said quietly, "At least tell me that they gave you a choice this time."

"They did," JJ nodded with a serene smile. "I thought I'd hide out in here with you for a minute while Rossi and Em go at it. I tried to stay, but I think I was making her more uncomfortable, so I slipped out."

Shaking his head, Hotch murmured, "To tell you the truth, JJ, I'm not sure what the hell is going on. But if there's a man alive that could pry answers out of a reluctant woman, it's Dave."

"Yeah," JJ agreed, "I just hope you remembered to disarm Emily," she said with a meaningful look. "Honestly, when I left that room," she said, thumbing at the office across the hall, "I'd lay even odds that there may be some bloodshed."

"She's hiding something," Hotch stated softly, those simple words sufficient to explain the entire situation. "And we need to know what it is."

"Well, based on what the Ambassador told me on the flight here, I'd say we have cause to be worried. The suspect?" JJ queried as she settled into a nearby seat.

"I just radioed for Morgan and Reid to collect him and bring him here for a friendly chat with an old friend," Hotch replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "But, I've got to warn you, the press have already began gathering outside."

"Yeah." JJ nodded, her long blonde hair slipping over her shoulders. "I passed them on the way in. How soon until you think I can give an initial briefing?"

"The family of his latest victim has been notified," Hotch said stoically, "so, you can at least give them that much. And the usual spiel about more information being forthcoming."

"I'll get on it," JJ replied as she nodded, pushing up from her chair as she moved toward the door.

"JJ?" Hotch called, stopping her.

"Yes?" JJ said, turning.

"This is none of my business, but I know that Will was happy when your transfer to DOD came through...how exactly is he going to take this?" Hotch asked haltingly.

Her spine stiffening, JJ shook her head. "Will is no longer a factor in any equation, Hotch. He's not going to be a problem."

"You two..."

"We split a month after I transferred. Turns out, that in our case, absence really did make the heart fonder."

"JJ," Hotch replied slowly, his heart going out to the younger woman, "I'm sorry."

Blinking, JJ laughed. "The funny thing is, Hotch, I'm not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with the press."

And as the door closed behind her slim form, Hotch realized that for the second time of the day, he'd been rendered speechless.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note: Hello, readers. Just a brief note for you all today. For those interested, we have a new challenge up at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner". Sign-ups for our theme song challenge run through May 14, 2011. The rules are simple. Tell us your favorite character about which to write, the character you'd like to receive a story about AND what you envision that character's theme song being. We think it'll be a lot of fun and hope to see all of you there! All our best!**_

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Eleven**

Leaning back against the paneled wall, Emily let out a deep breath as she dropped her head back. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let herself relax for a moment. If there was any where to find peace at this time, she would gladly give a year's salary to find it.

Heavy footsteps interrupted her stolen solitude, and she didn't need profiling skills or even ESP to identify the interloper. The stern disapproval that was wafting in her direction was all the hint she needed.

Cracking open one eye, she winced as she saw the darkening cloud that was now David Rossi's expression. Yep, her bad day was about to descend even further into the pits of hell.

"Dave," she sighed, rubbing her hand over her forehead, "not now, okay? Now's just not a good time."

His snort answered her plaintive request. "Not a good time, she says," he mimicked, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me, Em, when exactly did you think the time would be right to let us know that you are the target of a vicious unsub?"

"Great," Emily muttered, rolling her eyes, "another alarmist in my midst. God save me from those determined to protect me," she prayed, her eyes flipping toward the tiled ceiling. "Seriously, Rossi," she continued, her voice leaking disgust as she turned back toward him, "I never took you for a freaking reactionary."

"Obviously you don't know me quite as well as you thought then," Dave shot back, his dark eyes glimmering with barely contained rage. "I don't know if you know this or not, but when you take a chance with your life in the field, then you take a risk with all our lives."

"I did no-" Prentiss began, her voice filling with outrage.

"And for the record," he growled, his voice louder as he cut off her denial, moving further into the small conference room, "I like my fucking life. I worked damned hard to get to where I am right now."

Biting back her own curse, Emily glared at Rossi as he tossed a couple of embossed black books down on the battered table. "I'm not in any danger."

"Good, continue to bury your head in the sand, Prentiss. You're good at it," Dave sneered. "In the meantime, you and I have work to do. Sit down," he demanded, nodding toward the pulled out chair. "We're wasting valuable time."

"We certainly are...bringing in innocent people to question..."

"Would you just listen to yourself," Dave spat irritably, shaking his head. "Since when do we ignore the obvious? According to our Unit Chief, your friend has a record. Of course we're gonna talk to him."

"Whatever," Prentiss rolled her eyes, hurling herself into the chair at the far edge of the table. "What are those?" she asked almost disinterestedly, nodding to the slim books.

"Yearbooks from your alma mater for the two years preceding your graduation," Dave informed her grimly. "You're gonna go through 'em and see if any of those faces spark any negative feelings."

Wrinkling her nose, Prentiss fingered the edge of one of the books. "I can already tell you that three quarters of these people spark negativity. They were elitist assholes."

"Be that as it may, looking at these photographs might trigger some kind of memory...a rumor about them...something. We'll compile a list and have Garcia run their records."

Smirking, Emily snorted, "Yeah, good luck with that. If any of these little darlings got into trouble, Dave, believe me, their mommy and daddy's money got them out of it. And there won't be any record of it."

"And you've seen Garcia's hacking skills in action. I have every faith she'll dig out the dirt from between the cracks, Emily," Dave countered, unconcerned. The only thing that did concern him at the moment was Emily's apparent resistance to getting this job done. Drawing in a deep breath, he took the seat across from her as she idly flipped through the glossy pages, her eyes barely scanning the images. "Look, what the hell is your problem? Did you hate these people so much that you don't care if another one dies?" he asked bluntly.

"What?" Emily spat, her eyes jerking from the yearbook to his face. "Of course not! How in the hell can you ask me that after the years we've worked together?"

"Mostly because you aren't acting like the woman I've spent years working with," Dave said with an easy shrug, leaning back in the straight-backed chair. "Either pull it together, Emily, or get the hell off the case," he ordered in a hard voice, his eyes narrowing as he watched her cheeks redden. "None of us have the time or energy to waste on your bullshit right now. In case you missed it, we're all now working to keep your ass out of the line of fire. In fact, as far as I can tell, you're doing your best impression of the spoiled, privileged elitists you claim to hate so much."

Closing her mouth, Emily felt her cheeks heat guiltily. Swallowing, she shifted in her chair as she dropped her gaze to the book in front of her. He was right. She was acting like a bitch. And it wasn't helping either of them. "I know," she murmured, the words catching in her throat. "I'm sorry."

"Save the apologies, Emily," Dave muttered in disgust. "Just do your damn job. Name the narcissists," he said, tapping the other tome.

Nodding, Emily began attentively studying the pictures splayed before her and grimaced. Lifting her eyes to the older man across from her, she shook her head. "It's going to be a pretty long list, Dave. It would be easier to tell you who doesn't have those tendencies."

"Emily," Dave growled in warning.

"No," she stated, holding up a hand quickly, "I'm not trying to be uncooperative, but you have to understand something about this school," she said, tapping the book for emphasis. "The kids that attended were the crème de la crème of society, David. Each one felt entitled to a certain extent. It goes beyond mere snobbery. It was bred into them. I mean, we had the nouveau riche, but they were so far and few between that it's almost negligible. Cut the skin of most of these individuals and they'll bleed blue."

Sliding a pad of paper across the scarred surface of the table, Dave met her eyes. "Then I'd say Garcia is in for a long night. Write."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note - Hi, readers! For those of you leaving reviews, we both appreciate it and love hearing from you. For some reason, for the past two weeks, fanfic isn't letting me respond. But, I wanna take this moment and tell you guys thank you!**

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Twelve**

Angrily turning the pages of the first album in front of her, Emily Prentiss forced her eyes to focus on the pictures that were now staring up at her. She had fought for years to forget some of these very people, to remove those memories from her mind. And yet, now here she was, once again facing the very individuals who had done their level best to make her teen years less than remarkable.

So much for growing in one's life.

Watching closely as she rapidly flipped the thick pages, Dave frowned as he leaned against the wall. Just as he was about to snap out another command for her to take the task seriously, the door to the small conference room opened, and a familiar blonde head poked through.

"Thought I'd see if either of you want coffee," JJ asked, keeping her voice neutral, hoping to minimize the tension that was palpable even to her.

"Ask my warden," Emily spat out, reaching for her pencil as she scribbled down a quick note on the waiting notepad, her eyes glued to the book. "He's probably got me on bread and water by now."

Barely controlling the urge to throttle her, Dave seethed. He was pretty sure he was a close to committing a cold blooded murder as he'd ever been to his life...and his intended victim was a friend. At least, he'd thought she was a friend. They'd always been friendly. But, in the last hour, the Emily Prentiss he'd known had disappeared.

And in her place now sat a royal bitch that'd taken obstinacy to a whole new level.

He'd listened to her complaints and mutterings for the last forty-five minutes as his fury had steadily built. And now, he'd reached his boiling point. His fingers itched to choke the life from her.

He had a feeling that wouldn't be conducive to the overall progress, though. But he'd sure like to give it a try.

Eyes rounding as she watched Dave flush, JJ lightly touched his arm. "On second thought, why don't you take a break and I'll work with Em for a while," she suggested gently.

"You think some gal time will improve her mood?" Dave grunted, glaring at the brunette frowning at him.

"I think that if I don't separate you two now, we'll be seeing the coroner for a whole different kind of reason," JJ countered evenly, tightening her fingers around Dave's forearm and tugging him toward the door. "Don't go anywhere," she ordered Emily, pointing her finger at the other woman as she pushed Dave out the door.

"I wouldn't dare. The Dog of War might decide to tackle me," she spat snidely as JJ shut the door with a quick snap.

"I'm gonna kill her," Dave growled, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he spoke, his hand waving toward the now closed door. "What the hell has gotten into her, JJ? This case has turned her into a raving lunatic...breaking protocol...being insubordinate...and don't feed me any crap about this being about her mother. I get dysfunctional relationships. I've had more than my share. But that woman," he stated, jabbing his finger over JJ's shoulder, "is crossing every line in the sand I draw. Not even I can take much more shit from her, Jen!"

Nodding patiently, JJ wondered if it was possible that the vein throbbing at his temple could actually sprout its own mouth, too. In all her years of working with David Rossi, she'd never seen him this close to losing control with a colleague. "Dave, breathe," she demanded.

"What's going on?" a masculine voice asked from behind JJ.

Shaking his head furiously at the newcomer, Dave growled, "Aaron, I don't have the foggiest clue. But if somebody doesn't convince Prentiss to take this whole thing more seriously, we're gonna have a hell of a lot more bodies piling up...and since hers is gonna probably be at the top of the heap..."

Holding up a hand to quell his irate one-time mentor, Hotch looked at JJ, questions in his eyes. "JJ?"

Licking her lips as she looked from one man to the other, she cleared her throat. It appeared that she was jumping back into the fray with both feet. "It seems that Emily and Dave aren't working and playing well together this afternoon."

"Understatement of the fucking century, JJ," Dave muttered under his breath.

Ignoring his aside, JJ murmured, "I suggested Rossi take a break and allow me to work with Em for a bit."

"Don't let her jerk your chain, man," Dave snorted. "She saw I was on the verge of strangling the hardheaded woman with my bare hands and decided to try and intervene and save her life."

"JJ?" Hotch repeated, raising an inquisitive brow.

"That sounds accurate," JJ agreed evenly, meeting Hotch's eyes. "However, my explanation was going to be a lot more eloquent."

"Different words, same gyst," Dave shrugged. "I'm pretty sure Prentiss has been possessed by the soul of my second ex-wife. I wanted to kill her, too."

"As I recall, you really loved that one," Hotch stated dryly.

"Love turned to hate though real quick. Remember that?" Dave snapped impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest. "Especially after she started jerking me around."

"Dave...Hotch...let me try, okay?" JJ requested calmly, interrupting what was certain to become an unproductive walk down memory lane. "Look, none of us know very much about Emily's life prior to joining the Bureau. Not even me. But from what little I've gleaned when she might have had one glass of wine too many, very few of her formative years were pleasant. We all know that Emily likes to shove things into that little box at the back of her mind. She's made compartmentalization an art form. Asking her to open it and examine what could be some painfully traumatic memories is taking a toll on her. Dave," she said softly, resting a hand on his arm, "we both know that the woman sitting in that room isn't herself. I'm just asking you to give me a few minutes to try to locate our Prentiss. Not the Ambassador's daughter...not the next potential victim of our unsub...but our friend, Emily."

"Well, since I've already wasted an hour of my life trying like hell to find her, I bid you good luck," Dave saluted. "You're gonna need it."

Turning her gaze to Hotch, she waited.

"I guess it can't hurt for you to try to reach her," Aaron conceded. "But make it clear, JJ. She doesn't want me to have to interrogate her...and I was serious as a heart attack about suspending her and returning her to Quantico under guard."

"I'll pass along the message," JJ agreed quickly, reaching for the door.

"Vehemently," Rossi ordered, his eyes narrowing on the petite blonde. "This isn't a negotiation, Jen."

Nodding once, JJ quickly disappeared inside the room.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Hello, friends! Our newest challenge has just been posted on our forum, and we want you to join us in "The Dog Days of Summer". We've added a twist to this challenge...the story must be told from the point of view of one of the BAU's members PET! Please check out the forum to sign up...you can access the forum from ilovetvalot's profile page._**

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**_Now, on with the show..._**

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Closing the door behind her quickly, Jennifer Jareau leveled Emily Prentiss an incredulous look. "What in the name of God do you think you're doing," she hissed, hurrying across the room. "Are you trying to get thrown off this case or get fired from the Bureau?"

"He's just being overly sensitive," Emily grimaced, waving a hand toward the door that had closed with a loud snap. "And over dramatic."

Shaking her head as if to clear the cobwebs from her mind...or maybe try to bring herself out of this alternate reality that she'd stumbled into where Emily was a crazy bitch determined to drive them all insane, JJ blinked rapidly. "You are deliberately antagonizing one of the greatest minds that the FBI has ever seen. A guy that's trying to help you, by the way."

"When did you start singing Rossi's praises?" Emily muttered irritably, crossing her arms over her chest as she paced toward the window.

"Uhmmm, I guess since he climbed aboard the train with the rest of the people that care about you to try and rescue you from yourself," JJ snapped sharply, refusing to back down in the face of her friend's ire. "Although, right now, I think he's seriously deliberating gift wrapping you and sending you to this unsub with a bow on your head."

"Well, then, you all climbed on board the wrong ride, JJ!" Emily argued, barely resisting the urge to stomp her foot against the floor. "I don't need to be saved. There's no reason to think this guy is gunning for me."

"Emily," JJ said slowly, gently grabbing her friend's arm and guiding her back to the wooden chairs around the table. "Listen to me. Either pull it together or Hotch is coming for you next."

"Damn it!" Emily grumbled, scrubbing her eyes with an impatient hand. "Whether or not the unsub is targeting you directly or not, you definitely have pertinent information to offer on these people...you know their pasts. You're a part of this, Em, and a smart enough woman and talented enough profiler to know it."

Inhaling through her nose as JJ's words found their intended target, Emily swallowed tightly. That was the rub, wasn't it? She was a profiler. A damned good one.

And her instincts screamed one thing.

The only way to collar this unsub was to use herself as a lure. Of course, nobody wanted to hear that.

They already thought she was a target.

And if she was, all the better. It would make her part in this so much easier. If only she could convince them to stop chasing false leads regarding a man that, despite the skeletons in his closet, had proven to be a valuable friend to her and wasn't capable of committing this atrocity.

"Emily," JJ barked impatiently, shaking her friend's arm with determination, "Are you hearing me?"

"I hear you, JJ," Emily sighed, resigned that she was going to have to play by her team's rules if she expected to be included in anything they did, let alone the profile they'd be presenting to Indianapolis PD. She'd jeopardized the trust and faith that they'd placed in her and she only had herself to blame for that. "I guess I'm angrier at myself than I am at Rossi anyway."

"He's trying to help, Emily," JJ said softly, easing down into the empty chair beside her friend, hoping against hope that Emily had finally started to allow herself to see reason.

"As I remember it, he didn't much appreciate our help either the last time we danced in this town," Emily murmured, remembering the case that had marred Dave's past.

"Which only goes to show you how much he wants to solve this one and get the hell out of this city," JJ reminded her. "It doesn't particularly have good memories for him either."

"I know," Emily conceded, leaning both elbows on the table as she rested her chin on her hands. "But JJ," she murmured, with a look at the blonde woman beside her, "Adrian is innocent."

"Why are you so convinced of that, Emily? You're giving your loyalty awfully freely to someone you have already admitted that you haven't seen in a number of years. Do you really know any of these people anymore?"

"No." Emily shook her head, shuddering as she recalled Kate's posed body, the horror permanently tattooed on her consciousness. "He wouldn't have done that to her."

"To who?" JJ asked as she frowned.

"Kate," Emily offered on a whisper. "He loved her. I mean, he really loved her, JJ. Sure, he screwed around with Christina and Melinda. Everybody was screwing around with everyone back then. It was the eighties. But Melinda's baby? No, that child wasn't his," she shook her head decisively. "Adrian wouldn't have been that careless. Even then. And if he had been, he would have taken responsibility. If anything, he's being framed. Or targeted himself."

"Your mother told me that he probably didn't even know about the child. She said it was handled to discretely."

"She's wrong. I was there the night Mindy tried to claim they'd conceived. But Adrian was smart. He did the math. He wasn't that kid's father."

"I don't get it, Em," JJ groaned again, shaking her head. "You question everybody's motives. You trust no one. What the hell did this guy do to earn this kind of blind faith? Fight the Devil himself for you?"

Squeezing her eyes shut, Emily breathed, "Something like that." Gnawing her lip for a moment as she bit her thumb nail, Emily inhaled deeply, knowing she had to confide in somebody. And JJ was going to be a hell of a lot easier than Rossi. Admitting her stupidity to one of the premiere minds of the FBI for the second time in her life wasn't her idea of a good time. "You know that I was a rebellious teenager, right?" she asked huskily.

Straightening, JJ offered a slight smile. "Is there any other kind?"

"Guess not," Emily said ruefully. "At any rate, during my years at Claymore, I was angry at the world, JJ. My parents were never what you'd identify as nurturers. I was sent to that so-called school because it was convenient for them, not because it was good for me."

"Okay." JJ nodded, watching Emily's eyes darken.

"Anyway, I fell in with the wrong crowd...doing all the things you'd expect a bad seed to do. Drinking, smoking...drugs. We were rich kids. And I was one of the richest. Teachers tended to look the other way. But, on a lark...I decided that merely getting away with things wasn't nearly as much fun as seducing one of them over to the dark side."

"Oh, Em," JJ whispered sympathetically when the other woman's voice cracked.

"There was an English lit prof. Gabriel Windstead. Every girl had a huge crush on him. He wore faded jeans and had long dark hair. I don't know how the administration ever allowed him in...he probably had connections somewhere. But, I digress," Emily said stiffly as her one-time query's image skittered through her mind. "I decided that I wanted him, and back then, I never had a problem going after what I wanted. I realized fast that I was in over my head," she whispered. "It was too easy. At first, it was almost sweet. Afternoon trysts in his office...sneaking out to the horse stables. But then his true colors started showing. Things got darker between us. He wanted things..." she shuddered.

"Go on," JJ urged gently, reaching out to take Emily's hand.

Biting her nail on her free hand, Emily whispered. "One night he told me to meet him in his office. When I got there, there was another man. I didn't know who he was at the time. Gabriel locked the door and told me to strip. I said no. I mean, even then, I did have limits. When I didn't comply, he backhanded me. I guess I was stunned...or in shock. The next thing I remember is getting pinned to the wall, naked, while that other bastard dripped candle wax down my chest. I must have screamed. It shouldn't have mattered. But what neither of them knew was that Adrian was in computer lab across the hallway."

"Jesus!" JJ cringed, squeezing Emily's hand reassuringly.

"He saved me that night," Emily whispered. "JJ, I saw his eyes when he saw what they were doing to me. I watched how he fought for me. He's not a deviant. He was a red-blooded male that liked sex, but there isn't an ounce of depravity in Adrian Parker. If there was, he wouldn't have fought for me that night. He wouldn't have rescued me."

"He would have joined in," JJ agreed softly.

"They've got the wrong man in their sights," Emily said weakly, referring to the team.

"Do you think it was Gabriel?" JJ asked with narrowed eyes. "Or the other man?"

"Gabriel died ten years ago in a car accident. I eventually found out the other man was his cousin. He died six years ago of cancer."

"Damn," JJ bit out, pushing her hair out of her face. "It doesn't matter anyway, Em. Rossi and Hotch are right. Somehow, whether Adrian did this or not...and I personally think you're probably right and he didn't...he is connected. And hopefully, he can shed some additional light and tell us how."


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: Hello Readers! We would like to encourage each reader and author alike to participate in nominating their favorite fics and authors for the second annual "__**Profiler's Choice CM Awards 2011**__!" The nomination ballot, rules and category summaries can each be found at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" Forum. To reach that post, please either take a trip to the forum itself OR links are provided on the profile pages of ilovetvalot, tonnie2001969, OR Profiler's Choice CM Awards. Nomination ballots should be pm'd to Profiler's Choice CM Awards ONLY. That link is also provided on the forum or through the profile pages listed above. We look forward to hearing from each of you!_

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* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Emily wrapped her arms around her chest protectively as she whispered, "I don't know if I can share that with the rest of the team, JJ. My past is not exactly a shining beacon in my life, and I don't want to have to deal with the way they're going to look at me."

JJ let out a deep sigh as she heard the waver in her friend's voice. She didn't have to be a profiler to know that Emily was deeply agonized, whether her expression revealed it or not. "Em, they have to know. Right now, everything matters. And this is one of the most important clues we've got. And I mean this in the kindest possible way, but you're allowing those feelings of insecurity you had as a teenager to cloud your judgment now. Look at this as a profiler would...and ONLY as a profiler, and you'll see that I'm not wrong here."

"There's no way to let them know that Adrian's not their suspect without letting them know about my past, is there?" Emily asked tiredly, barely hearing JJ's words as she closed her eyes for a moment and allowed her shoulders to slump.

"I'll take care of it, Em," JJ assured her, pressing her hand to Emily's arm, squeezing gently. "And we'll deal with everything together. Give me permission to talk to Hotch and Rossi...not necessarily in that order, of course," she added, remembering the dark glower covering Rossi's face when she'd last spoken to him. "I'll break it down for them and see where we go from there."

"Not much choice is there?" Emily muttered, massaging her aching temples as she felt another wave of tension beating against her skull. "One way or another, my whole life is gonna be on display for the whole team to gawk at."

"You really think that's how it's gonna be? We're not the teenagers that you went to that horrible school with, Em. We're the people that have spent the last several years showing you what family is. I think we deserve better than that, don't you?" JJ asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow at her hunched friend.

"I know, I know," Emily groaned into her hands. "It's just...the picture I painted for you, JJ...it doesn't exactly show me in a way that reflects the woman I am today...the person I've worked my ass off to become. I hate that part of my life, JJ. I can't stand remembering that awkward, eager to please idiot I used to be."

"Emily," JJ said softly, touching her friend's arm again, hoping to draw her attention. "Put the past in the past where it belongs. We've got enough to deal with in the here and now. And right now, that begins with the two irate senior profilers that I need to brief with this new information. I swear to God, this is the closest I've ever seen Rossi to spitting nails and that includes the time that Reid replaced the coffee in the break room with Earl Grey tea."

Smiling faintly in spite of her darkened thoughts, Emily nodded. "That is pretty bad," she admitted ruefully. "I guess this means I owe him an apology at some point, huh?"

"Wouldn't be a bad idea," JJ replied evenly. "And maybe just try to give you mother a little slack, Em? Not to rub salt in an open wound, but that was as close to hysterical as I can imagine the Ambassador getting when she found me at State. She wouldn't take no for an answer from anybody that got in her way when I agreed to come back if the powers that be would allow it. She called in a favor from the guy in the Oval Office, Em!"

"Doesn't surprise me," Emily muttered as she grimaced, shaking her head. "Mother is nothing if not determined to have her own way."

"Emily, it wasn't just that. She's scared," JJ insisted. "Terrified actually."

"Be that as it may," Emily interrupted before the other woman could continue, "if you could please make my mother disappear in the process, you'll be my best friend for life," she begged, the plea accompanied by a watery chuckle."

"Yeah, I'm good," JJ snorted, rolling her eyes as she grinned down at her friend, "but, I don't think I'm THAT good. My advice is to talk to her. Not yell. Not scream...not those icy, cutting remarks you two are so good at. But have an honest to goodness conversation with each other."

"That's about as impossible as Adrian being the killer, JJ. It won't happen," Emily denied immediately, shaking her head as she fought back another wave of pain.

"It might if you'd let it and consider the possibility that your mother isn't actually your nemesis," JJ sighed wearily, wondering if this feud between the two Prentiss women would ever be overcome. "But, that's up to you. Right now, I've got to see about soothing a couple of savage beasts. In the meantime, could you please try not to piss anybody else off? I can only put out so many fires inside of a day and I'm pretty sure that I'm approaching my quota," she teased, her hand on the door knob.

"I'll do you one better," Emily offered, sorry that within hours of her return, she'd already thrown JJ into the midst of her personal hell. "If you'll send in Hotch, I'll do my best to explain my theory to him. I don't think I'm up to dealing with Dave yet," she confided with a grimace, the memory of his angry, disappointed face burned into her mind.

"For two people so similar in character, you sure do create a hell of a lot of sparks together," JJ replied. "He's on your side, Em. You know, the one that doesn't have you as the unsub's next victim."

"He makes me more uncomfortable than I already am, JJ," Emily said reluctantly, her cheeks heating under her best friend's stare.

"Show me somebody that Rossi doesn't have that affect on," JJ snorted, propping her hand on her hip. "It's who he is. It's what makes him a freaking legend within the Bureau. He stares at somebody with those unreadable eyes of his and voila! An insight none of us had considered. We can use that to our advantage."

"Maybe," Emily murmured, her tone relaying the fact that she was not convinced. "But you're not the one he's looking at like an insect under a microscope."

Lifting her chin as her hand tightened on the door knob, JJ shook her head. "I say this with all the love and compassion in my heart, Emily. Get. Over. It. Do your job. But better yet, allow us all to do ours. Especially Dave and Hotch. We're here to help you, but more than that, we're here to catch a killer before he decides that it's time to act again." And with those parting words, JJ slipped out, leaving Emily alone with her thoughts.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's Note: BIG ANNOUNCEMENT - THE FINAL VOTING BALLOT IS AVAILABLE FOR THE SECOND ANNUAL PROFILER'S CHOICE CM AWARDS on "CHIT CHAT ON AUTHOR'S CORNER" FORUM. Please take this opportunity to recognize some wonderful author's and their stunning pieces of fic. Voting ends 11/30/2011. Two Amazon gift cards will be given to two RANDOM voters that take the time to vote in ten or more categories. Congratulations to all of this year's nominees. Now, let's all read some CM fic!**_

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_**Thanks to everyone that continues to read, review, favorite and alert our work! You guys are incredible and we love hearing from each one of you!**_

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Leaning against the outside of the closed door, Jennifer Jareau closed her eyes for a moment as she allowed herself to take a small break. In all of her years in the Bureau and the government, she was certain that she'd never encountered a case that was as convoluted as this one appeared to be. And while she was well aware that emotions were running high for all involved, including herself, she couldn't allow herself to waffle now. As much as she wanted to spare Emily any further pain, it was tantamount that they continue forward and get all of the pertinent information out in to the open.

It was painfully obvious now that the closed doors of the past hadn't done any of them any favors.

Drawing in a deep breath, she pushed off the door and walked determinedly down the short hallway. Pausing outside the door to the closet-size office that was now Aaron Hotchner's domain, she rapped sharply on the doorframe before she stepped inside.

She wasn't at all surprised that both Dave and Aaron were huddled around the small desk, their eyes poring over open files. Well, they were until she stepped into the room. Dual sets of obsidian eyes immediately met hers, expressions almost identical as their brows furrowed, telegraphing the questions that she was certain would be coming in mere seconds.

She was not disappointed.

"Well?" Rossi demanded, scooting his chair back as he met the blonde's eyes. "Tell me you were able to talk some sense into her."

"Have I told you how much I miss that lovely bedside manner you've perfected over the years, Dave?" JJ countered as she dropped into the only empty chair in the room. "Such a ray of sunshine you've become."

Grimacing at her well-natured rebuke, Dave shook his head. "Sorry, JJ. I'm being an asshole," he muttered, shoving his hand through his dark hair. "But, that woman," he said, jabbing a finger toward the door, "tends to bring out the worst in me."

"It's because you're both cut from the same cloth," JJ said gently, smoothing her hand over the desk. "Both of you are obstinate as hell."

"See", Aaron Hotchner smirked, "told you I wasn't the only one that thought that about you."

"Really? You pick now to be a sarcastic pain in the ass?" Dave asked gruffly, glaring at his Unit Chief. "I mentored you. I didn't train you any better than that?"

Propping her chin on her fist, JJ sighed as her eyes traveled from one man to the other. "Oh, how I've missed these little chats of ours."

Lips twitching, Hotch quickly schooled his face back into the serious mask he usually wore, clearing his throat. "So, was Emily any more forthcoming with you, JJ?"

"Wouldn't be hard considering the fact that she spent the last couple of hours stonewalling me," Dave grunted, shifting impatiently in his seat and drumming his fingers against the scarred wood of the desk.

"Actually, yes," JJ said softly, nodding in Hotch's direction. Drawing in a deep breath, she looked at Rossi. "You know she didn't have an easy childhood, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Dave nodded. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, absentee parents...basically raised herself. She's quite the success story, all things considered," he said briskly. "Did she say anything helpful?" Dave asked. "You know, something that might help us figure out if she's got a great big X painted on her back?"

"Dave," Hotch said steadily, his voice low. "Snapping at JJ isn't going to help us arrive at the answers we need. She's on our side, remember?"

"Oh, hell," Dave growled, pushing out of his chair to pace in front of the desk restlessly. "I'm sure JJ remembers that I have one mode when somebody on the team is in danger," he muttered, considering that his version of an apology.

"Yeah," JJ snorted. "It's called dickhead."

"See," Rossi sneered, throwing out a hand toward Jen.

Smiling faintly, JJ murmured, "I did get some information as to why Emily is convinced her old high school pal is innocent."

Turning sharply, Dave stared at the soft spoken woman in front of him. "You mean you actually managed to get her to tell you something useful? How?"

"Maybe because I had a conversation with her rather than being a bully, Dave. Your tactics don't work on Emily, Dave. She's too much like you for that. Push her before she's ready and she'll clam up. A few gentle probing questions using rational thought and..."

"Whatever," Dave growled. "What did you get out of her?"

"I found out the reason that Emily is so loyal to Adrian Parker," JJ said tersely. "And it's a pretty good reason. When Emily was in school, she fell in with a bad crowd. Drinking...drugs...at any rate, she had a relationship with a teacher. A Gabriel Windstead. One night, Emily went to meet him and Gabriel had company...another man...his cousin. They were going to rape her," JJ said softly.

"Jesus," Dave growled, his hand clenching at his side. It was no small wonder Emily hadn't wanted to discuss her theory with him.

"Were?" Hotch repeated, his own spine stiffening.

"Enter Adrian Parker," JJ continued as she nodded. "He fought with the men and gave Emily time to escape."

"And the two bastards?" Dave bit out.

Shaking her head, JJ said quietly, "Both dead. Gabriel, ten years ago...the cousin, six. They can't be related to this either. But Emily is convinced that Adrian isn't our unsub. And, honestly, if he threw himself into the mix back then and saved her...it doesn't profile that he could be our guy. And that's the party line Emily is sticking to as well."

"If he was, he'd have gotten turned on by the depravity. He'd more likely have acted as a voyeur rather than rescuer," Hotch agreed.

"So, we're exactly nowhere. Not even a suspect," Dave spat angrily.

"Not necessarily. Parker might not be our guy, but I didn't say that he could know something," JJ replied. "He was there, Dave. He knew the same people that Emily knew. Only Adrian, I'm betting he knew at least half of them a little more intimately."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Hi guys! The FINAL voting process is well underway for the Second Annual Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds Awards hosted by Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. Links can be found on our profiler pages. Please come on over and take a look at this year's incredibly talented nominees and their stories. Two random voters (that vote in ten categories or more) will be selected to receive gift cards from Amazon. com at the completion of this year's awards. So, take a moment and join the fun. Please PM us with any questions.**

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* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Great," Dave said flatly, rolling his eyes. "So, basically we're interviewing a younger African American version of myself," he noted dispassionately.

"At least you'll know what questions to ask," Hotch deadpanned as he arched one brow.

Clearing her throat, JJ frowned as she shot Hotch a look. "Are you sure Dave is really the best person to send in there with Parker."

Raising a brow, Dave leveled JJ with a fierce look. "Meaning?" he bit out sharply.

"Meaning that it appears you're feeling a bit confrontational right now," JJ replied, unfazed by the scowl he directed at her. "Perhaps alienating our best shot at a lead isn't the way to go on this one," she suggested evenly.

"Well, forgive me," Dave muttered sarcastically, his forehead furrowing. "I've been locked in a room with someone that has the communication abilities of a clam. No, scratch that," he amended, shaking his head quickly. "I could have coaxed a clam into talking."

"Dave, I don't think you've ever coaxed anybody in your life," JJ muttered, aiming a disgusted glance in his direction. "You bully. You interrogate. And you're really good at those things. Except, let's all remember that Emily is equally skilled at avoidance and being evasive. Putting you two together is like mixing oil and water. And I suspect you won't exactly be any more successful with her friend."

"You got somebody in mind that could get us some answers, JJ?" Dave asked impatiently, his fist clenching at his side. "Because the clock is ticking."

"Well, based on my conversation with Emily, Mr. Parker appreciates a pretty face," JJ countered as she shrugged. "Would you be willing to let me give it a try?"

Exchanging a look with Dave, Hotch shrugged. "She could wear a mike and we could coach her through it. According to Morgan," he said, nodding toward the phone, "Mr. Parker wasn't exactly pleased to be picked up by the FBI and escorted to the police station. Putting a friendly face on this might be what he needs to loosen up."

Shifting his eyes to JJ, Dave asked quietly, "You really think Parker isn't a part of this?"

JJ shook her head negatively, hoping for a moment that the older profiler was opening up to her suggestion. "Not in the sense that he's our unsub. But I think he's indirectly involved, much in the same way Em is."

Rossi nodded, letting out a sigh as he stuffed his hand in his pocket. "Take Morgan in there with you. You take lead."

"Emily wants to sit in," JJ added softly, seeing Dave's eyes flash dangerously as she spoke.

"She can sit in observation with me and watch," Dave retorted, his hand fisting at his side as he felt the anger once again climb up his spine.

Glancing at Hotch, JJ saw his nod of agreement.

"Dave's right. Until we clear Parker, Prentiss can't play an active role in this investigation. She's too biased to see things clearly where he's concerned."

JJ couldn't argue with that logic, but at least she'd tried. "I understand," she said with a slight nod. "She, however, might not."

"I'll explain it to her," Dave returned with a grim smile.

"You know, goading her isn't the way to get her to cooperate, Rossi," JJ replied, annoyed that she even had to verbalize something the so-called brilliant profiler should already know. "Everyone sitting here knows that Emily is an intensely private person. There are boundaries that even her closest friends don't cross with her."

"JJ, I understand what you're saying," Hotch offered slowly, well aware of the situation that they were all facing, "but, Dave is right. Emily endangered an open investigation in which three high profile women have already been murdered. Our need to know trumps her right to privacy," he explained firmly as his cell phone rang. Holding up a finger, he reached for it.

"Hotchner," he said tersely, his lips pressing together as he nodded. "Good, Morgan. The Chief gave us interrogation room three. Set Mr. Parker up in there and make him comfortable. We'll be there shortly," he said, disconnecting and dropping the phone back to his desk. "Okay, we're ready," he said softly, gazing at JJ. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"More so than he is," JJ noted, jerking her head toward an obviously tense Rossi. "I'll go meet Morgan and give him the game plan," she said, rising from her chair.

Nodding once, Hotch watched JJ walk from the makeshift office before turning his eyes back to Dave. "I understand why you're angry with Prentiss," Aaron said softly, "But, what's with antagonizing JJ? She came back to help, and, so far, she's been more successful than any of us."

Releasing a deep breath as he dropped his hands in the pockets of his slacks, drawing the material tight over his thighs, Dave shook his head. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I guess it just burns me that managed to get more out of Emily in three minutes than I did in three hours."

"I'm guessing she took a notably different approach," Hotch smirked, watching Dave's swarthy cheeks flush guiltily.

"Maybe I was a little harsh with her," he muttered.

"A little?" Hotch echoed with a snort, his eyes knowing as they leveled on his best friend. "You were a little harsh with Bundy, Dave. You've spent most of the afternoon trying to eviscerate Emily."

"She's in danger, Aaron," Dave said tightly, his eyes boring into the other man's. "I can feel it in my gut."

"And the answer to keeping her safe is browbeating her to death?" Hotch asked derisively.

"You never bitched about my methods before," Dave grumbled under his breath, pacing toward the window and staring down into the street below, watching as Morgan and Reid escorted a tall black man toward the door.

"That's because usually they work," Hotch returned evenly. "Today, they didn't."

"No," Dave admitted with a heavy sigh as the three men below disappeared from sight, "They didn't."

"So maybe you change tactics," Hotch suggested mildly from his position behind the desk.

"To what, Aaron?" Dave asked tiredly, running a hand over his whiskered jaw.

"Maybe you try just being her friend for awhile. You know, supportive, non-judgmental...all that crap," Hotch grinned, watching as Dave turned to glare at him.

Dave glowered. "Is that ever how I've been your friend, Aaron?"

"No," Hotch shook his head. "But, I've been speaking fluent asshole with you for years. Emily hasn't. Try another approach," he said, rising to shrug on his suit coat.

"Is that an order?" Dave asked gruffly.

"Does it need to be?" Hotch challenged calmly.

And with one last irritated look in the Unit Chief's direction, David Rossi stomped out of the small office.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note - So, I know I sound like a broken record, guys, but We've got less than two weeks left to vote in the Profiler's Choice CM Awards. ALL the details can be found on "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. Links are in my profile page. If you've got ANY questions, PLEASE PM me. Also, for every person that votes in at least TEN categories, you are automatically registered to win one of two Amazon. com gift cards. So, please, put on those reading hats, grab a cup of coffee and check out the ballot. We have some great stories and fabulous authors up for consideration.**

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* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Mr. Parker," JJ said soothingly, walking into the interrogation room and smiling sympathetically at the handsome, irritated man in front of her. "First, let me apologize to you," she said, leaning across the table and extending her hand. "I'm SSA Jennifer Jareau with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I think you've already met my colleague, SSA Morgan," she said, dropping a hand on Morgan's shoulder. "And I'm really sorry we had to drag you in here like this," she said, dropping into the wooden chair next to Derek.

Looking between the two agents angrily, Adrian Parker's well formed mouth tightened. "I'd say dragged is an understatement," he snapped with a glare directed toward Morgan. "You people did everything but shackle me in handcuffs in front of my employee. As another proud black man, you must know how embarrassing it is for a brother that's worked his ass off to get where I'm at to be seen by his mostly white employees like that!"

"Sir," JJ said, her gentle voice conciliatory, "I'm very sorry for the circumstances under which we had to get you in here, but time is of the essence."

"I can assure you that my time is every bit as valuable as yours, Agent Jareau," Adrian retorted, his eyes snapping back to the blonde haired woman across from him. "I was in an important meeting with my investor group when your barrage of agents showed up at my office."

"I understand," JJ replied as she nodded supportively. "This is inconvenient to you. Completely understandable for a business man such as yourself. Time is money for you, yes?"

"Absolutely," Adrian agreed with a tense nod, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he met the blonde's understanding gaze.

"Yes, sir, well, time may mean life for us," JJ said quietly, staring into his dark eyes. "In fact, it's already meant the lives of three individuals you're already familiar with," JJ clarified, carefully placing three 8x10 glossy photographs on the table between them. Tapping the first picture, she said quietly, "I believe you know Melinda Carmichael. Or perhaps you knew her as Milly...she's our first victim." Moving her finger to the second snapshot, JJ continued, "Or perhaps you recognize her? Christina Regan. Chrissy, to her friends." Putting her hand on the last finger, she stared into Adrian Parker's horrified face. "Or Kate Bosworth, maybe? Does her face ring any bells for you, Mr. Parker?"

Swallowing as he felt his throat close tightly, Adrian struggled to breathe. "Are you telling me that all three of these women..."

"They're dead," Morgan stated flatly from beside JJ, his keen eyes watching every movement of Adrian's body...his face...his demeanor.

"They were each brutally murdered," JJ added, her voice soft, but vehement. "But not before being brutally assaulted and raped." Turning over three more pictures and placing each on top of the previous photographs, JJ said, "This is what they looked like after our unsub was done with them, sir."

Gasping as his eyes fell on the grisly photographs, Adrian pushed abruptly away from the table, his eyes widening as he breathed heavily. "Oh my God!" he whispered, his voice shaking as he leaned back in his chair. "Oh my God," he muttered again, dragging a hand down his face.

"These women all had something in common, Parker," Derek stated evenly, watching as Adrian lifted his face to meet his eyes.

"You," JJ said simply, her face never changing as she spoke to their suspect.

Jaw dropping, Adrian stiffened. "You think I had something to do with this!" he yelled.

"In some way." JJ nodded. "You had an intimate relationship with each one of these victims, did you not?"

"A hundred years ago," Adrian retorted, refusing to look at the pictures again, instead focusing on the blonde agent's inquisitive face. "I haven't seen any of these women in other than the most mundane social settings in years. I think Chrissy was the last one I saw and that was at a party that had to have been two years ago." He shook his head. "Whatever personal relationship I might have had with any of these women ended when we were kids, Agent Jareau."

"Would you be willing to take a polygraph to confirm that?" Derek asked bluntly.

"Yeah, if I have to, but not without legal counsel present," Adrian snapped, his lips pressing together tightly. Looking between the two impassive faces, he asked sharply, "Do I need an attorney here, Agents? I've got several of them standing by on hefty retainers."

"Do you feel like you need an attorney, Mr. Parker?" JJ asked without blinking, her head tilting slightly as she assessed his reaction.

"I do if you're accusing me of a crime that I haven't committed," Adrian retorted bluntly, his eyes blazing. "I'm assuming you've done your research," he stated grimly. "So, you know there isn't any love lost between me and any one of these three women, but I didn't kill them," he added as he shook his head firmly.

"I don't believe you're directly responsible for the death of these women, Mr. Parker," JJ clarified calmly as she tapped her finger against the nearest picture. "But, our team of profilers do believe that you are somehow involved, if only indirectly. In our field, there is rarely such a thing as mere coincidence."

Lifting his chin, Adrian Parker's intelligent eyes focused on the woman across from him. "You think someone is trying to set me up?" he asked softly.

"I think that's one possibility," JJ answered vaguely. "We need you to help us figure out who that person could be. Because," JJ said with a pointed look down at the women in the pictures, "it's just a matter of time before this person kills again. My only question is if are you going to do so willingly?"

Considering the two people sitting in front of him, Adrian inhaled deeply before scooting his chair back to the table and clasping his hand together. "Where do you want to start?" he asked huskily. "I don't have any secrets to hide that are so important that I'm willing to risk some innocent woman's life. Let's go."


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's Note: Hello! Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum have signups in session through December 31 for our "Resolutions Challenge" for January. Rules and details are also at the forum! Please join us for the challenge that will kickoff the New Year.**_

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_**And as always, thanks to our readers! Your reviews and alerts make our day and we love hearing from you! We don't own a thing, but we sure wish we did.**_

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Emily refused to meet Dave's eyes as he held open the door to the observation room, motioning for her to step inside. Her footsteps were leaden against the tile floor, and she made a point of going out of her way to even avoid brushing against him. She knew what he thought of her….of what they all must think of her now. And if his attitude was any indication of how this whole nightmare was going to play out, it was clearly obvious that her life as she knew it was over.

Dave bit back a retort as he watched her stomp toward the plate glass window that took up almost the entire far wall. Her posture was stiff, her shoulders tighter than any drum. And by the look of fury on her face and the tight set of her lips, she obviously was not going to share any details with him any time soon.

Fine, he thought darkly as he moved to stand two feet from her, his eyes focused completely on the scene unfolding before them. She had barely acknowledged his presence when he had informed her of Hotch's decision. Now he would return that favor.

Both of them turned when they heard the door click, watching as Hotch stepped into the small room. Motioning toward the glass, he asked, "Anything yet?"

Shaking her head, Emily said woodenly, "JJ's just getting started. Adrian's not going to say anything, Hotch. He's not your man."

"Pity you don't have as much faith in the people you've worked with for years as you do in this guy you haven't seen in…what, Emily? Fifteen...twenty years?" Dave bit out roughly.

Ignoring his statement, Emily looked at Hotch. "He's cooperating."

"Guilty suspects have cooperated before," Hotch said blandly, turning to assess the man behind the two way glass.

"It's called inserting themselves in the investigation," Dave muttered darkly, his lips pressing together as his jaw clenched.

"We picked him up, Rossi. He hasn't inserted himself in anything," Emily hissed, turning to glare at the older man. "And from what I've heard, we didn't exactly care that we made scene. Seriously, making a good man appear guilty to his employees..."

"It isn't like Morgan took him out in handcuffs, Prentiss," Hotch replied evenly, his tone neutral but even. "Mr. Parker was just strongly urged to cooperate with an ongoing investigation."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and we both know how tactful Morgan can be."

Opening his mouth to reply, Hotch was cut up by his ringing cell phone. Sighing heavily, he glanced at Rossi. "I need to take this. It's Strauss."

"Ah, hell, don't tell me she's trying to climb into this clusterfuck, too," Dave growled, his eyes darkening dangerously.

"Based on the text message I received from her earlier, the Ambassador has made a few phone calls to Washington this afternoon," Hotch said with a pointed look at Emily.

Feeling her cheeks heat underneath the intensity of Hotch's censuring stare, Emily replied defensively, "I gave up trying to control my mother's actions a long time ago, Hotch."

"No one expects you to control anyone, Prentiss. Had you, however, been up front from the beginning, we might have been able to manage the fallout and its implications to the team," Hotch responded tersely before striding from the room.

Shoulders slumping as the door closed with a hair more force than necessary, Emily bent her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You gettin' the point yet?" Dave asked gruffly as he slid his hands into his jeans pockets, his eyes glued to Aaron Parker as JJ continued questioning the black man.

"What?" Emily asked harshly, jerking her gaze to Dave. "You mean that everyone here thinks I fucked up this case? Yeah, I received that memo, Dave. I get it!"

"Good," Dave bit out. "Maybe you can start actually being some help now." Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he finally turned to look at Emily.

"I think the opposite may be true," Emily replied with as much dignity as she could muster. "It's obvious that none of you are willing to listen to anything I have to say. I think, perhaps, I should head back to Washington."

"Run all you want." Dave shrugged carelessly, his dark eyes trained on her pinched face. "But you'll be doing it with a protective detail," he informed her pleasantly. "A big one."

"Pardon me?" Emily snapped, her eyebrows rising. "Who are you to make those kinds of decisions? I'm perfectly capable of defending myself if the event arose."

"Who am I?" Dave asked, his eyes narrowing on the woman in front of him. Damn, but she'd gotten very good in a short time at knowing all the wrong fucking buttons to push with him. "I'll tell you who I am. I'm the senior profiler here. I'm the guy that was doing this for a living for some time when you got your brand spankin' new degree. I'm the guy that put this fucking unit together. But most importantly, I'm the guy Aaron Hotchner will listen to. Bet me you won't walk out of this precinct with a detail, sweetheart. I love taking candy away from babies."

Jaw dropping, Emily's eyes widened. "You're serious?" she breathed incredulously.

"You bet your fucking ass I am," Dave retorted, his eyes flashing as they raked over her. "You can stick with me or a detail of uniformed officers. It's your choice, Emily."

"You know, I never thought you were a bastard before now," Emily returned softly, her whole body almost vibrating with anger.

"And I never thought that secretive nature of yours would get in the way of the good sense God gave you, either. Guess we all are a little disappointed today, aren't we?"

"My past is my business, Rossi," Emily whispered shakily, her throat tightening at the note of truth in his words.

"Too true," Dave agreed, his jaw tightening as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, right up until women you know start dropping like flies. Then, I would say it became ALL our business, Prentiss."

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_**So, are you all enjoying this ride?**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Don't forget to sign up for the 2012 Valentine's Challenge at Chit Chat on Author's Corner if you are interested.**

* * *

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Nineteen**

Her lips tightening into a flat line, Emily Prentiss turned on her heel to stare at their unit chief. "This is not necessary, Hotch. Call off the attack dogs. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself and I sure as hell don't need this weight hanging around my neck, also."

"The orders came from much higher than me, Emily," Hotch replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he met her stern glare as he walked back into the room, clearly unhappy with whatever the section chief had told him.. "Although I have to agree with the wisdom of the command. You're in a vulnerable position and may be a target for an unsub that we haven't been able to identify yet. The risks are too great."

Her mind roared as she comprehended his words. Clenching her fist at her side as she turned her glare back toward Rossi, Emily ground out, "Whoever you called to make this happen, you can just call back and tell them to stand down, Rossi. And I'd appreciate it if you'd just butt out of my life."

Dave snorted as he met her flashing eyes. "While I wish I could take the credit for this one, seeing as how you obviously aren't capable of seeing the forest for the trees, the Ambassador beat me to the punch this time. So whatever beef you have, take it up with your dear old mother." Arching one brow, Dave added snidely, "It appears the old gal's still got the political pull in all the right places."

"The least of which is with our Section Chief," Hotch ground out, his jaw tensing as his fingers contracted around the phone. "Strauss wants hourly updates and we've got exactly forty-eight hours to see progress or she arrives to personally supervise the investigation."

"Son of a bitch!" Dave exploded, his eyes flashing as he turned toward the other man. "Aaron, that woman wouldn't know how to do field work if it bit her on the ass. What the hell does she think she's going to do here other than get in our fucking way?"

"Perhaps hold her sorority sister's hand?" Hotch replied archly, aiming a pointed look at Emily.

Closing her eyes as she attempted to control her temper, her lips barely moved as she spoke. "I'll talk to Mother," she conceded softly. "I'll fix it."

"See that you do, Prentiss. I don't need to tell you that Strauss's presence down here will only distract us from our primary objective."

"And in case you missed it, that includes keeping you alive despite your best efforts to the contrary," Dave growled angrily.

"Stop treating me like a criminal," Emily spat angrily, turning to face Rossi fully. "I didn't kill anyone, Rossi! I've now officially told you people every one of my deep dark secrets. Back the fuck off!" Looking at Hotch, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "And you...I'm not one of your victims. And other than attending the same school, there's no reason to believe I'm on his hit list. I'm capable and qualified to be a part of my investigation. I made a mistake early on. I've made amends by telling you...or rather, JJ...every damn thing I think could pertain to it. So either relieve me from duty and let me go home, unescorted, or let me get back to work! Because this, this whatever, isn't working, Hotch!" she said, gesturing between herself and Dave.

Lifting his chin, he considered Emily carefully, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Exchanging a look with Dave, Hotch nodded slowly. "All right," he agreed. "You want to work, you'll work. The ME has completed his autopsy on the last victim. Go talk to him. Take Dave with you."

"I don't think teaming me with Agent Rossi would be..."

"You don't get to choose, Prentiss," Rossi snarled, shaking his head as he dared her to respond. "This isn't your personal day to play pick a partner. Hotch is teaming you with me for a reason."

"My protection?" Emily snapped, barely sparing him a glance. "Hotch, I'm more than capable of protecting myself."

Raising one brow, Hotch replied, "It's my call. But for the record, I'm teaming you with Dave because he was the agent that was on the ground at the crime scene. He might have more insight into what the medical examiner has to say. It's procedure, Agent Prentiss. Maybe you need a refresher course in it."

Closing her mouth, Emily swallowed as her spine tightened. It was procedure. And she knew that. But the idea of spending a single second weathering one more of Dave's condemning looks was enough to make her want to scream. "Fine," she said quietly, bobbing her head obediently. Glancing at Dave, she muttered, "Let's go then."

Grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair, Dave shrugged it on. "But I take lead."

"You just want me to stand there and look pretty," she said, forcing herself to speak pleasantly.

"I want you to do what I tell you to for a change," Dave returned evenly. "We'll call if we get anything," Rossi told Hotch as they moved toward the door. "Call us if he breaks," he ordered, jerking his head toward the glass at Adrian Parker.

"He won't," Emily said with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Yeah, yeah, he's innocent," Dave sighed. "He's your friend. You know him. I've heard it all."

"Well, yes, there is that." Emily nodded stiffly. "But, if you'd been watching him, you'd see his microexpressions indicate genuine confusion. When JJ or Morgan lodges an accusation, his forehead remains smooth. His reactions indicate anger and bewilderment. But there's been no clear reaction indicating guilt. He's not the guy, Hotch," Emily said flatly with a look at the Unit Chief.

"I actually concur with your analysis, Prentiss. I don't think he did it," Hotch returned, relaxing slightly as he listened to Emily's analytical response to Dave. Now that was the agent he needed. "But, I think he might have information that could help us. Hopefully, JJ and Morgan can figure out whatever that is."

That was reasoning that Emily couldn't argue...not when there was a definitive link between Adrian and the victims. "Okay," she acknowledged grimly. "I'll wait for you in the car, Dave," she said, walking out of the office.

Moving to follow her, Dave paused as Aaron called his name.

"Rossi," Hotch urged softly, "Maybe it's time to lighten up on her."

Dave nodded, but his darkened eyes belied the consent. "As long as she listens to reason."

"I think she's coming around."

"Maybe." Dave shrugged as he stepped into the hallway. "I'll let you know."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! Check out Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum for several stimulating discussions thread. This week the forum shine's the spotlight on our talented fellow author, "What-IfOnly".**

**Also, thanks to everyone reading. If you have a moment, leave a review! We adore hearing from you. Happy Reading! **

**What A Tangled Web We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty**

Staring straight ahead as she sat stiffly in the passenger seat of the ubiquitous SUV, Emily clicked her seatbelt into place. Pulling angrily at the tightening strap as it snapped against her neck, she muttered under her breath, "Just another thing determined to strangle me today."

Glancing over at his obviously discontented teammate, Dave merely arched one brow as he slid the key into place. "Are you always this childish when it comes to things trying to save your life, Prentiss, or do you just have it out for me and that strap?"

Jerking her head, Emily narrowed her eyes. "Shut up, Rossi. I accepted that you have to be in the car. I did not agree to carry on any form of conversation with you in any fashion."

"Fine by me," Dave retorted as he slid the vehicle out onto the side street in front of the building. "What you've been saying has been drivel so far anyway, so I'm sure anything you'd come up wouldn't be any better."

"Drivel?" Emily all but spat as she clenched her hands in her lap, tugging at the belt that was now too tight around her waist. "You think trying to prove that an accused man is innocent is drivel? You think that attempting to beat the truth through your thick-ass skull is drivel? Honestly?"

Twisting the key in the ignition, Dave shook his head in disgust. "You don't wanna ask me what I honestly think, Prentiss. Honesty doesn't seem to be something that you're interested in hearing today. You'd much rather get comfortable in that self-centered bubble you've built around yourself."

"Self-centered?" Emily gasped, her jaw dropping. Had that arrogant, egotistical KING of the ASSHOLES just called her self-centered? He, who never did or said anything that didn't suit him?

"What would you call it?" Dave replied absently, glancing over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking space while he ignored the way she virtually vibrated in her seat. Although, the hue of lavender coloring her face would have amused him if he'd taken the time to take a closer look. "So far, you've made this whole thing personal, Prentiss. We had to pull information out of you that was relevant to this case today. Why? Because it was private," he sneered. "Never mind the women dropping dead around you. Emily Prentiss must be allowed to keep her precious secrets, mustn't she?"

Blinking at the full frontal assault, Emily finally whispered, "That isn't fair."

"I'm sure that's exactly what our victims were thinking while this freak was watching the life drain out of them. Think any of them would have been concerned about their privacy if it had meant we could have saved their lives?" he asked grimly, navigating traffic as he spoke. "Here's a newsflash that somebody should have given your ass before now, Emily. LIFE isn't fair. Suck it the hell up."

"You really are missing a sensitivity chip, aren't you?" Emily asked faintly, eyeing him like he was a bug that she'd like nothing more than to crush beneath the heel of her boot.

Laughing without humor, Dave shook his head. "I don't have the time or energy to waste being sensitive, Prentiss. I'm here to get the job done. To catch this killer and maybe, if we're lucky and I'm not tempted to do the job first, we'll keep you alive. I thought of all people that you'd be the one that gets that. I guess I was wrong," he said, disappointment clouding his words.

"I guess you were. I don't have very many friends, Rossi. Not real ones at any rate. I especially don't have many lifelong ones. I have Adrian. That's who I've got. And now, I've got a bunch of former classmates dead at my feet. And a colleague devoted to the noble cause of resting the blame for that at my feet. So, yeah, you were wrong."

Jamming the gear shift into park as they reached a spot in the hospital parking lot, Dave turned to glare at Emily, her tone grating on his last nerve. "That's what I'm talking about," he said, jabbing a finger at her. "You're ability to think rationally on this case has been compromised. You're making it personal which means that you aren't able to do an effective job. And that could mean that somebody else dies, Emily! Like, I don't know...YOU! You think I want that, Em?"

Pausing, he watched her face shutter, her eyes going flat.

"Jesus," he growled, shoving a hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to count to ten in his head before he spoke again. "I have compassion, Emily. I don't particularly like people taking a stroll through my history. But there are times when it's necessary, and this is one of those times. I'm sorry for what you've been through," he said with soft compassion. "Genuinely sorry. And I'm relieved as hell to know that you had Parker on your side. And maybe he is innocent," Dave admitted as he shrugged. "I'm reserving judgment on that. But what I DO know for certain is that there is NO way that this isn't all connected somehow. And somewhere beneath all the bitterness and anger that you're feeling, the profiler in you knows that, too."

"I've honestly told you...or rather, JJ, the entire story, Rossi," Emily said with as much dignity as she could muster. "I wasn't close friends with any of the victims...and aside from Adrian, I know very little about their personal lives even back then. I wasn't exactly one of the popular kids traveling in their circle."

"Emily, you know something...it might be locked away in that steel trap you call a mind, but it's there. We just have to trigger a memory. But, I feel entirely certain that you and Parker are pivotal key players in this unsub's sadistic plan. We just need to find out where you fit. When we do that, we can narrow down a list of suspects and hopefully stop him before he makes a move against another innocent person. But this hinges on cooperation. Yours and Parker's."

"Adrian IS cooperating," Emily insisted vehemently, turning in her seat as she pulled on the seatbelt, loosening the strap slightly.

"I agree." Dave nodded promptly. "It appears that he is. Wholeheartedly. Now, what about you? You gonna help or hedge, Prentiss?"


	21. Chapter 21

_**Author's Note: Hi, ya'll. There are so many exciting things going on over at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum this week! First, we have a brand new April challenge up for those that wish to participate. All the details can be found there, but basically, sign up to write your favorite character. You'll be assigned a random Original Character to pair them with in some capacity. For example, sign up with "David Rossi" and you might be assigned the OC of the second Mrs. David Rossi. Sign-ups are through March 31,2012.**_

_**Also, there's a brand new "Author of the Week" thread and this week our spotlight is on the fabulous jekkah. And, we've added a new discussion thread, "The OCs of Criminal Mind" for productive conversation regarding original characters.**_

_**Fortune Cookie Friday prompts are up for your consideration. And, we'd still like to hear from you on the idea of a Criminal Minds Fanfiction Reading Day. The idea is to choose one Sunday a month to set aside for reading and reviewing the many fantastic stories in the CM fandom. Swing by and comment on any of our discussion threads. We'd love to have you.**_

_**And a supersized thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, favoriting and/or alerting our work. We appreciate each one of you. Feel free to friend us on facebook at either "Ilovetvalot Fanfiction" or "Tonnie Fanfiction". We've got several fun things going on there too and a whole host of uber-talented author and reader friends chatting.**_

_**As always, Happy Reading!**_

* * *

**What A ****Tangled****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

His words were meant to pierce her, and they achieved their purpose. Emily felt her ribcage tighten as her breath caught in her chest. She wanted to do what she knew was right, but at the same time, she felt the weight of the entire case settling harshly against her already overburdened shoulders.

Her team. Her mother. Her past. Her career. Her…her everything suddenly seemed to be demanding her attention, and she wasn't certain that she possessed the strength to actually be the woman that they all seemed to believe that she was capable of being.

And while Dave waited impatiently for her answer, she felt a tear slip from the corner of her eye. Which, much to her dismay, just compounded her anger. For if there was anything that she would have never wanted David Rossi to see, it was her tears.

Pressing her lips together tightly as stiffened her shoulders, Emily blinked rapidly as she turned her face away from him and stared out the window. "I've been helping, Rossi," she said as calmly as she could manage under the circumstances. "And I'm going to continue to help."

Eyes narrowing as he took in her stiffened posture and her refusal to meet his gaze, Dave let out an impatient sigh. "Prentiss, what the hell else happened in your past that has got you so tied up in knots over this? How bad of a number did that damned school do on you?"

Shooting Dave a look that would have frozen water solid in less than thirty seconds, Emily seethed, her earlier tears suddenly evaporating. He just kept pushing. Like a battering ram determined to obliterate an obstacle, David Rossi simply didn't recognize that some boundaries were set in stone. Licking her upper lip, Emily clenched her jaw. "Bad enough. JJ filled you in, didn't she?"

"She did," Dave muttered, flushing guiltily under her narrow eyed scrutiny. "And like I said, Em, I _am_ sorry. No kid should have to endure the crap you have experienced. That goes without saying. If I could change it for you, I would. Believe me. But that crap happened over twenty years ago. And if you can't shove it back into the tiny box it's lived in for the last two decades, take it out when we need it and analyze the date unemotionally and put it the hell back, then there's a very real chance you could get either yourself or somebody else killed on this case. Can you live with _that_?"

"No."

Soft, succinct and filled with emotion, Prentiss' heartfelt reply registered heavily on him for a moment as a breeze ruffled his hair. "Okay," he said gruffly, nodding toward the brick entrance at the back of the hospital, "Then let's work together to see if we can find a missing piece to this puzzle before this nutjob kills again."

Following Dave to the door, Emily swallowed hard as she mentally prepared herself for what was coming. She hated hospitals. But more than that, she despised the morgue. Even the hallway leading to the interior room was frigid. And the smell…she knew that realistically she couldn't smell anything other than the cleaning products they used…but damn if she could get the telltale metallic aroma of blood out of her system for hours after visiting one of these places.

Her shoulders stiffened automatically as she walked through the metal door that Dave held for her, forcing herself to smile politely when a man with a white coat rose from behind the desk to greet them.

"Can I help you?" the grey headed man asked them suspiciously, his aged blue eyes narrowing on the couple standing in front of him.

"Special Agent David Rossi," Dave said briskly, flipping open his wallet and displaying his badge. "This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss. I think someone from the Bureau alerted someone at the hospital to expect us?"

Nodding as he came around the scarred wood desk, the man extended his hand. "Reece Linley," he introduced himself, shaking Rossi's hand.

"You're the ME?" Emily asked, offering her own hand to the doctor.

"I am. I just finished completing the autopsy on Ms. Bosworth about half an hour ago," he replied evenly, nodding toward the metal table in the center of the room, the victim's body covered to preserve her modesty. Leading the agents toward the exam table, he offered grimly, "Unfortunately, there wasn't any forensic evidence to speak of. No skin under the nails and the assailant used a condom. There was evidence of rigorous sexual activity, tearing and bruising consistent with excessive force. And based on her internal lacerations, I'd say she was violated with a blunt instrument as well. Whoever this man is…he's got a sadistic streak a mile wide." The doctor shuddered, obviously aghast at the damage that had been done.

"Cause of death?" Dave questioned bluntly, moving to stand beside Emily.

"Asphyxiation," Dr. Linley answered matter of factly. "I found fibers in her nostrils and mouth. This cut on her lips," he said, pointing at Kate's face, "she bit the pillow with enough force to puncture it. She was fighting to breathe until the end."

Forcing herself to look at Kate's bluish lips, Emily suppressed a shiver. "Did she fight back at any point?"

"Actually, no. There was a marked lack of defensive wounds on her. But she wasn't restrained," Linley remarked, lifting the victim's wrist as Dave bent to look. "She hasn't got any visible marks at all. I don't think he restrained her."

"She was cooperating," Dave theorized, glancing over at Emily for confirmation. "If she knew the victim, she might have thought if she played along, he'd spare her."

"Well," the doctor sighed, reaching for the sheet, "she might have thought that. At first." Pausing, he looked between the two individuals across the table from him. "Look, I know you two aren't novice agents, but I feel like I should warn you. She was still clothed when she arrived here. You didn't see the injuries beneath at your crime scene. Prepare yourselves."

* * *

_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please take a moment and leave a comment. We love hearing from each of you!**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**Author's Note: Oh, so many exciting tidbits to share with all of you today! First, who doesn't like a chance to win free stuff? I know I do! And that's what Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum's new "Pay It Forward Review Incentive Program" is ALL about! Reviewers get the chance to win an Amazon Gift Card for themselves AND an author for a story that they review! Cool, huh? Details can be found at the forum thread! Please, check it out! April will have TWO drawings…that's a total of four giftcards up for grabs, folks! This month the thread is focusing on ANY story in which HOTCH is a primary character! It's DEFINITELY worth a look.**_

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_**As always, we appreciate everyone that continues to read, review and favorite our stories. It's a pleasure to write for you. Thanks for being so awesome to us!**_

* * *

**What A ****Tangled****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"You're ready?" Reece Linley asked, poised to pull back the sheet for the two agents surrounding the metal table. Good Lord, but he hated this part of his job….rehashing the violence that victims suffered always put a foul taste in his mouth. And this one was even more gruesome than most.

Nodding stiffly, Emily clenched her jaw as Rossi murmured, "It won't get any easier standing here. Let's just get this done, Doc."

Emily Prentiss had worked in some form of law enforcement for over half her life. She'd seen what a deranged mind could do to a human body. She had thought nothing could shock her anymore. Sadly, she'd been wrong.

"Oh, my God," she gasped, pressing a gloved hand to her mouth and turning sharply away from the exam table. Feeling bile rising in her throat, she took several deep breaths through her mouth. The almost bitter smell of latex from the glove mixed violently with the nausea threatening to overtake her, and she fought to maintain what was left of her composure.

"I'm sorry. I tried to warn you," Linley apologized softly, wincing as he glanced at the female agent.

Casting Emily a pitying look, Dave squared his shoulders. "He disemboweled her," he murmured.

"And took her skin flap as a souvenir," Linley said, shaking his head.

"The other victims?" Dave asked, keeping his voice level and Emily continued to take some deep breaths beside him.

"Nothing like this." Linley shook his head. "It's as though something about this woman enraged him. The strange thing is that after he vented his anger, he took care to replace the intestines neatly inside her. He even cleaned up the blood spatter," the doctor said, indicating the pale unblemished skin around the wound. We tested the skin. It was a simple antiseptic soap that could be purchased at any drug store."

"Either this woman pushed him in some way or our unsub is escalating," Dave murmured as he stared at the body with an impartial eye.

Breathing deeply as she forced herself to turn back toward the body, Emily steeled herself, clenching her hands into fists as she stared down at Kate Bosworth. "Is there anything else, Dr. Linley?" she asked hoarsely.

"Just one thing," the aging doctor sighed. "All three women have been branded," he explained, moving to lift the deceased's hip. Motioning with his head for Rossi, "For this unfortunate woman, it was her hip. Crude and brutal if you ask me. It would have hurt like hell."

"Post-mortem?" Dave asked, shifting around the table to peer at the injured skin.

"No. He did this while she was still alive. The killer probably used a cattle prod. You can special order different insignia for the tips. It looks like a cat to me. The other two victims had 'em, too. The first victim had one located on the inside of her thigh. The second one had one on her stomach."

Looking over Dave's shoulder, Emily's eyes clouded. "It's a panther," she said faintly. "School mascot," she explained weakly when Dave looked at her over his shoulder.

Gently returning the body to its original position, Linley pulled the sheet pack over the woman. "We're still waiting on the toxicology report on Ms. Bosworth. I don't expect to find anything different. The first two women had traces of chloroform in their system. She probably will, too. I suspect he only used enough to subdue them. The fact is, these women felt most every single thing that happened to them. Whoever this animal is, he's a sadistic son of a bitch."

"Agreed, Doctor," Dave muttered as he nodded. "You'll call us if you have anything else?" Dave asked, staring at the man in front of him.

"As soon as the reports come in, you'll be my first call," Linley agreed readily, shaking Dave's hand.

Emily offered the doctor a perfunctory handshake as well before striding out of the room, anxious to escape the oppressive smell of death and decay. Leaning heavily against the cement wall as she stepped back into the cool corridor, she was aware of Dave following her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and calm as he watched her seem to collapse against the tiled wall.

"I'll be fine," she replied tightly, her throat clenching once again. "I just need a minute, okay?" she asked sharply, her eyes already searching for sign for a ladies' room.

"Take your time," Dave responded gently, feeling like an ass for the way he'd treated her earlier. "I'll meet you in the car. It'll give me a chance to call in our lead about the brand to Garcia and get her on the case."

Nodding wordlessly, as she located the door to the restroom, Emily walked on unsteady legs toward the promise of a relative moment of privacy. She needed to regroup. If she could find her bearings, she could begin to be of assistance. And right now, the BAU needed all hands on deck. Especially hers.

Closing the door behind her, she was aware of Dave's eyes still on her, in all probability judging her for her weakness. Bracing her hands on the sink, Emily squeezed her eyes shut, the image of Kate Bosworth burning in her mind. One thing had been clear. Whoever was hunting her former classmates had an axe to grind and was on a mission to find revenge. The level of punishment inflicted on her body had indicated that much. His rage had obviously been building for years.

The question was, who had that much hatred residing inside them? What seemingly innocuous individual had been hiding a festering evil within them?

Twisting on the water faucet, Emily splashed her face, the bracing cool water reviving her. Reaching for a paper towel, she took a deep breath and tried to examine the situation impartially. She had two pools of potential perpetrators. Faculty and staff or classmates. And her own personal experiences indicated one was every bit as potentially dangerous as the other.

The one tangible thing she could bet on was that the unsub was related in some capacity to her former school. The panther insignia was a calling card; one she was betting he meant for her to find.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Author's Note: Okay, first, thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, favoriting and alerting our stories. We truly appreciate your comments.**_

_**Second, we want to offer you a quick rundown of activities and threads that are ongoing at the forum:**_

_**First, we have opened our next challenge to participants. "The Future Fic Challenge" thread is open on Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. Rules and explanation of the challenge are there as well. In short, choose one character and get assigned a random secondary character to tell a story set in the year 2022. It looks like a lot of fun.**_

_**We've also introduced a "Help Wanted" thread to the forum for authors that are looking for assistance with various writing complications that come up. Perhaps you want someone to bounce ideas with, or maybe you need a beta….this is the place to post an ad for what you are looking for. We've also reopened the "Chat Chat Among the Authors" thread to discuss spoilers or ask questions. The "Getting to Know YOU…Tell us about yourself" thread is open. Swing by there to introduce yourself whether you are a reader or an author. We'd love to meet you.**_

_**This week's author of the week is the talented RockHotch31. Please swing by that thread to ask questions about their writing and/or stories. In addition, there are several other threads open for comment. We hope to see each of you there.**_

* * *

**What A ****Tangled****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Meeting Dave's eyes as she crossed the asphalt parking lot, Emily watched as he closed his phone and straightened from his position leaned against the SUV.

"Garcia?" she asked as she approached, hazarding what she perceived to be a well-educated guess.

Nodding, Dave grabbed the Sprite he'd gotten for her from the vending machine outside the hospital off the hood of the Suburban. "Here," he said, pressing the cool, sweating can into her hand. "Drink that. You still look a little green around the edges." Seeing her eyes darken, he held up both hands. "That wasn't a criticism," he quickly added, arching one dark brow. "I just don't want you tossing your cookies all over my loafers."

"Handmade?" Emily asked dryly, glancing down at his shoes with a dispassionate eye.

"Of course." He grinned, watching as her fingers clumsily pulled the tab on the soda. Lifting the can to her lips, she took a cautious sip of the sweet soda.

Standing silently for a few minutes as she carefully drank from the can, he asked, "Feeling better?"

"Yes," she admitted as she nodded. "Thanks." She supposed of everybody that could have seen her looking less than professional, Dave was the member of the team that would offer the least flack about it. That knowledge offered a small measure of comfort. He'd kept her secrets for her before, and she knew he'd be the last person on earth to go shooting off his mouth about her sudden panic inside that cold room.

Dave shrugged. "No problem." Clearing his throat, he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "It occurred to me while you were inside, that I might have been….hell," he grunted, "We both know I _was_ an asshole to you. I apologize."

Surprised, Emily stared at her co-worker for a second. "Did somebody knock you in the head in the few minutes I was gone?" she asked, looking around the parking lot.

"Don't be a smartass. I'm trying to be nice here. Enjoy it. It doesn't happen often," Dave grumbled with a crooked smile.

Staring at the pavement, Emily shook her head. "You weren't completely wrong, Dave. I screwed up. Royally," she sighed heavily. "This part of my life…it's not something I'm proud of…and putting it out there for everyone to gawk at…it's hard."

"Em, I can promise you the first person that gawks will have a few missing teeth," Dave promised darkly. "I can understand your desire to keep your private life private. Having your friends and colleagues rifling through your past…demanding you open up old wounds, I know that's not easy. But, I also know you understand that it's necessary."

"I do." Emily nodded. "My heart just had to catch up to my brain. And that," she remarked, nodding toward the morgue, "brought it all home in a way not much else could."

"Garcia is looking for information on the prod. She's also researching the panther. There's a reason he chose that."

"Beyond the fact that it was our school's mascot," Emily agreed, studiously ignoring the memory that flashed just then, the brand appearing before her eyes, the horror once again trying to rear its ugly head.

"Garcia is gonna shoot us the most common facts and legends about panthers," Dave explained. "Maybe she'll find us a deeper meaning than an unsub with an affinity for big cats."

"It might be helpful. But this unsub is escalating, Dave. You heard what the doctor said. Each body has been brutalized a step farther than the last."

"Yeah, but at the same time, he makes an effort to clean them up," he murmured with a thoughtful look. "Remorse?" he asked doubtfully.

"Doesn't feel right to me either." Emily shook her head. "It's precise…making up there faces…doing their nails. It's almost ritualistic."

"Most ritualists learn the behavior from somewhere," Dave said, riding the thought process train with Emily. "It's studied…ingrained."

"You think he might be part of a team? One to kill, one to clean up?" she asked.

"Not necessarily. I'm thinking it's more of a learned behavior. Maybe a teacher or a parent."

"He's cleaning up his mess," Emily muttered, sliding her finger absently against the cold soda. "Almost like he's picking up after himself. He replaces their clothes, reapplies their makeup and paints their nails. Almost like a boy would see his mother do to herself."

"Or in a twisted family, a mother would make her child do the tasks. It might explain the desecration and aversion to the female body….," Dave pointed out, staring into space. "It all fits."

"You think we're looking for an unsub that has been sexually abused by his mother and is recreating the events he used to perform for her," Emily said softly. "Adding, of course, the violence that he wished he'd had the courage and strength to commence then to defend himself."

"I think it's worth running by the team," Dave answered as he nodded. "It would be a really good reason to send a kid away to boarding school. Does any name pop in your head for this scenario?"

"Dave, it was a school full of rich, privileged kids," Emily protested, eyes widening. Sighing , she shrugged as she added, "There were certainly some effeminate males in the mix….but remembering one name. I'd need to go over the yearbooks again. Honestly, Adrian would be better at this. He was a lot more outgoing than I was. He knew more people."

Nodding, Dave opened the car door for her. "Then maybe we put you and Adrian in a room and let you hash through it all. It might be easier for you that way, having a second set of eyes to sort through the memories with."

"So, you believe him now?" Emily asked hopefully, biting her lip as she stared at his pensive face.

"Let's just say I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if he's providing helpful information and leave it at that," Dave offered softly, fastening Emily's seatbelt with an unconscious motion.

Capturing his wrist, Emily whispered, "Thank you for that, Dave."

"I trust your instincts," Dave replied gruffly. "But, at the same time, we have to take every precaution. He's not out from under my microscope yet, but I'll make an effort, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled before he slammed the door shut.


	24. Chapter 24

**_Author's Note: Okay, first, thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, favoriting and alerting our stories. We truly appreciate your comments._**

**_Second, we want to offer you a quick rundown of activities and threads that are ongoing at the forum:_**

**_First, we have opened our next challenge to participants. "The Future Fic Challenge" thread is open on Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. Rules and explanation of the challenge are there as well. In short, choose one character and get assigned a random secondary character to tell a story set in the year 2022. It looks like a lot of fun._**

**_We've also introduced a "Help Wanted" thread to the forum for authors that are looking for assistance with various writing complications that come up. Perhaps you want someone to bounce ideas with, or maybe you need a beta….this is the place to post an ad for what you are looking for. We've also reopened the "Chat Chat Among the Authors" thread to discuss spoilers or ask questions. The "Getting to Know YOU…Tell us about yourself" thread is open. Swing by there to introduce yourself whether you are a reader or an author. We'd love to meet you._**

**_And lastly don't forget our "Pay It forward Review Incentive Program". From now until the end of April, anyone that reviews a Hotch related story is eligible to win an gift card. Details found on thread at forum._**

**_This week's author of the week is the talented Flames101. Please swing by that thread to ask questions about their writing and/or stories. In addition, there are several other threads open for comment. We hope to see each of you there._**

* * *

**What A ****Tangled****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Slipping into the utilitarian interview room, Emily Prentiss sighed as she spotted her old friend, his head bent and buried in his hands. It was clear that he was feeling the strain. Being questioned for a crime you knew you hadn't committed would wear on even a strong man's nerves.

She should know. While her team hadn't labeled her the unsub, she was indeed under the same intense investigation.

"Hey, stranger," she greeted him, closing the door behind her. It was an empty gesture. The room was being watched, she knew. There was no such thing as real privacy in these kind of rooms. "How are you doing?" she asked, smiling as he jerked his chiseled face up to face her.

"Emily? Thank God," he breathed, jerking out of his chair to wrap her in a bear hug. "Somebody that doesn't look at me like I'm some kind of insect under a microscope," he groaned, lifting her in his arms.

"That bad, huh?" She grimaced as he set her back on her feet. "I'm sorry, Adrian," she apologized softly, her words sincere.

"Emily, I didn't do this!" he shouted hoarsely, shaking his head wildly as he stared into her eyes. "You know me. I'm not _capable_ of doing something like…that," he said, flicking his arm toward one wall covered in crime scene photographs.

"I told them that," Emily said truthfully, nodding in support. "And, I just got done talking to our Unit Chief before I came in here. Your alibi has come up solid. You are officially no longer a suspect in our investigation," she informed him, squeezing his hand as they sat down at the table. "I'm sorry you got dragged through the mud this afternoon."

Shaking his head, Adrian winced. "Em, I don't mind helping. If I know something, I wanna share it, but Christ, it had been years since I'd seen some of these women."

"Whoever this is that's committing these crimes, we know them, Adrian," Emily replied softly, her voice convicted. "And I think we might have known them well. Do you think you can get past your anger and try to help us? I mean, I know today was rough and if anybody had a reason to walk out of here without looking back, it's you, but we…_I_ need you."

Releasing a long breath as he studied Emily's earnest face, Adrian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like I've ever been able to say no to you," he grumbled, his tone resigned. "Just promise me that you won't leave me alone with the blonde again. The dude…Morgan, I think…he wasn't so bad. His 'in your face' approach…I get that. But the chick….Em, she grilled me like a fish, man."

Smiling faintly, Emily nodded. "JJ believes in being thorough."

"Yeah, I got that after I finished recounting my youth for the seventh time," he snorted, resting his elbow on the table. "It's like she was looking for shadows where there was only sunlight."

"It goes with the job," Emily explained calmly but with apology tingeing her voice.

"The woman cannot be charmed." He shuddered. "Believe me, I tried."

Laughing openly, Emily could only imagine. Adrian had always been a smooth operator and she knew that hadn't changed over the years. If anything, he'd cultivated his charismatic winning personality into a tool he used at will. "She works in DC, Adrian. Charming men are a dime a dozen. She's built up a resistance. Don't take it personally."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, shifting back in his chair to really look at her. "You look like shit," he said with the familiarity only a very old friend could get away with.

"Gee, thanks," Emily chuckled, mock punching him in the arm. "This case kinda put a crimp in my weekly spa day," she deadpanned. "And we can't all look like GQ models fresh off the runway."

"What can I say?" Adrian mugged. "It's a gift." Lapsing into a companionable silence for a few moments, he stared at the glossy photographs of the three female victims before their deaths on the wall in front of them. "You really think we know this bastard, Em? Seriously?"

"I think we have to, Adrian. These kills were personal," she whispered. "Gruesome and raw….it took someone with an extraordinary amount of hate to do this. Hatred like that doesn't just suddenly manifest. It festers for years."

"Okay," he agreed slowly with a short nod. "But have you looked through these yearbooks?" he asked, nodding at the stacks of annuals on the table in front of them. "Half these guys were whack jobs way back then. How are we supposed to figure out which one of them broke the chain on reality? Hell, I only even keep up with what a handful of them are doing."

"Whoever this is was envious of the victims. It's one of the reasons he puts them back together when he's done playing with them."

"I don't think I even wanna know what you mean by that," Adrian muttered, his nose curling. "Besides, I'm a businessman, not a forensic expert."

"Which means you pay attention to detail, just in a different way. Adrian, all three women had a brand of a panther on their body. Do you know anything symbolic about that other than the fact that it was our school mascot?" she asked, staring into his face.

"A panther?" Adrian frowned. Something about that tugged at the dim recesses of his memory and it showed on his face.

"Adrian? What is it? What are you remembering?" Emily asked urgently, anxious for any lead, no matter how small.

"Panthers," he whispered, closing his eyes as he tried to wrap his mind solidly around that elusive memory. "There was a group of guys…remember? The badasses, Em. They called themselves the Big Cat Club. They all had tattoos of panthers on their bicep. During out junior and senior year, they asked me to join."

Blinking, Emily's jaw dropped. "I remember that. They had some kind of hazing ritual where they took a guy into the middle of the wilderness and he had to find his way out in forty-eight hours."

"That's the one. Some of those guys were pretty raw…almost psychotic. It might be worth a look," he added as he shrugged.

Nodding quickly, Emily rose. "I'll get our analyst on it right now. Thanks, Adrian!"


	25. Chapter 25

**What A ****Tangled****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"The Big Cat Club?" Penelope repeated, her fingers flying over her keyboard in Quantico, Virginia, as she searched her vast databases for any sign of the club Emily had identified.

"Yeah, Aiden remembered it. It was a club at the boarding school that consisted of a bunch of guys with more brawn than brain. And as Aiden reminded me, a lot of them could have been loosely identified as real psychos."

Eyes narrowing on the screen as she opened an issue of the school newspaper, Penelope muttered, "Well, I can tell you that as of five years ago, the club was still around. A student did an expose on the hazing rituals they had by infiltrating the group," she explained as she scanned the article, curling her nose with disgust as she continued perusing the details. "Ughhh!" She shuddered, clicking her teeth together. "Some of this stuff is grotesque! I'm emailing it to you now."

Tapping her own iPad as she pulled up the article, Emily read quickly. "Torturing animals….ritual beatings of new recruits," she mumbled as she processed the facts dispassionately. "Run a check on the author, Pen," Emily requested urgently, her tone tight as she felt her stomach roil. "I want to talk to this Peter Graves."

"You're in luck, my perky profiling pal," Garcia chirped, finally feeling like she had something useful to offer the other woman. "Mr. Graves is currently home on break from the University of Kentucky. Guess where he lives?"

"Where?" Emily asked warily, stiffening.

"Right outside the great city of Indianapolis in a posh little community called Carmel. Based on what I'm looking at, Dad is an executive at one of the car companies."

Exchanging a glance with Dave across the table, Emily said, "We could be there in half an hour."

Nodding once, Dave rose. "Shoot us the address, Garcia."

"It's already loaded into your GPS, SuperAgent," Penelope chirped cheerfully, her fingers flying as she navigated the connections. "Safe travels," she said before disconnecting.

"You're going with me?" Emily asked, shooting Dave a hesitant smile. "I figured you'd pawn me off on Reid or Morgan at this point."

"No such luck," Dave grunted, pulling keys out of his pocket. "You'd give both of them the slip with your eyes closed. The Prentiss Pressure doesn't affect me. After you've withstood the withering looks of the three furies I married, I'm immune to all forms of female aggression."

"Lucky you," Emily chuckled as they approached Hotch in the hallway. Quickly explaining their new lead and gaining his approval, they shuffled quickly toward the SUV waiting for them.

"So, are you thinking we're looking at a suspect or something else?" she asked as he started the engine and jabbed on the GPS, quickly arrowing to the newest loaded coordinates.

"I don't think a twenty-one year old kid has the fortitude to carry of these kinds of crimes even if he is part psychopath. Besides that, he has no reason to target classmates from decades before him, but, it is possible he might know something useful about the group's past and present members."

"I actually agree with you on that one. The tricky part will be gaining his cooperation. He may be an amateur, but he'll try to protect his journalistic sources. Based on the sketchy information we have about him, he's an aspiring reporter…and a pretty talented one at that. He'll want to remain credible."

"He'll have an even bigger story if he assists us, Prentiss. We play to his desire for a bigger story. It's every reporter's Achilles' heel."

"It's almost disturbing how good you are at manipulating people," she commented, offering him a sidelong glance as she shifted against the leather seat. "Or, if that doesn't work, bullying them."

"I do what the situation calls for, Prentiss. If that means that I make a few enemies along the way, so be it. My endgame is always to achieve an optimal outcome. My methods might be a little murky…."

"Try muddy, Rossi," Emily snorted, rolling her eyes as she adjusted the visor above her. "And I'm not questioning your methods. I'm really not," she added quickly. "More often than not, they're effective. Just a little…."

"Revolting?" he supplied helpfully with a wry grin, easily steering the vehicle around a minor curve.

"Sometimes," she murmured in grudging assent. "But, you do get results. I've got to hand you that much," she offered with reluctant admiration.

"Does that mean you want me to take lead with the pimply faced reporter?" he said, nodding at the glossy photograph Emily held of their newest source of information.

"As you've said a dozen times today, time is of the essence. More women could die if we don't move quickly. The easiest and most prudent way to get answers would be to allow you to interrogate Peter. Just remember, Dave, he _is_ a kid and he simply might not have anything valuable to offer to us."

"Well, he's not gonna lead with it even if he does. But, you read the article, Em. He was disgusted by what he uncovered on the campus. He was trying to get the word out to people. That's a positive in our favor. If he was appalled by that, think how he'll feel when we explain that one of those former members might be a serial killer."

Scanning the article again, Emily nodded. "He's smart, Dave. Insightful. He'll know how to avoid giving us the answers we're trying to find."

"That just forces us to be better profilers." Dave shrugged, well aware of the potential challenges facing them. "He's legally an adult. We won't be forced to deal with his parents. And his inside knowledge of the way this club is run is enough for us to haul him into the precinct if it becomes necessary."

"We don't want him to lawyer up, Dave," Emily warned, her mind flicking quickly to the landmines that could be in their future.

"He won't," Dave denied. "His innate curiosity won't let him do anything that precludes him getting his next story."

"You got all that from a sketchy biography and an article he wrote years ago?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know writers," Dave returned evenly, sliding his hands around the steering wheel. "Firsthand knowledge, remember?" he winked as they pulled onto a well groomed suburban street.

"How could I? You never let us forget," Emily grumbled as they reached an expensive looking two story home.

Nodding, Dave glanced out his window. "Nice house," he murmured, scanning the environment for any obvious threats.

"Yeah," Emily sighed as she shoved open her door. "Too bad we aren't here to enjoy the scenery. Let's go, Dave."

* * *

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	26. Chapter 26

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**Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to read, review, favorite and alert our stories here on this site. We truly enjoy hearing from each one of you. Also, please check out our "M" stories at The Writers Coffee Shop (TWCS). If anyone needs a link or direction to the new site, please feel free to contact us through either a private message or while leaving a review and we'll make sure to get back to you. Each former "M" story is getting an overhaul as we publish it AND there are new stories being added all the time there as well. Again, we'll be happy to answer any questions you have. As always, we own nothing other than our plots and original characters. Now, on with the story…**

* * *

**What A ****Tangled ****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

"You're David Rossi," Peter Graves voice cracked as he opened the front door, obviously starstruck. "You are David freakin' Rossi," he repeated, his eyes glazing as he stared at the silent man standing on the welcome mat of his childhood home.

"Oh, boy," Emily muttered under her breath, nudging Dave with her elbow. "Move him from shock and awe into something more productive, will you?" she mumbled, her voice low.

"I am," Dave said with a wide grin, easily stuffing one hand into his jeans pocket. "And you must be Peter," he greeted the younger man.

"You know me?" Peter choked, taking a step back as his eyes widened and pupils dilated. "You know who I am?" he gasped, his jaw dropping as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"We do," Dave said pleasantly, flashing the kid another winning grin. "Could my colleague and I ask you to spare a few minutes to talk to us about an ongoing Bureau investigation? We'd like to get your insight on our most recent case," he offered generously, stroking the other man's ego smoothly.

Emily wondered if there was a bucket she could retch into as the man held open the door and nodded eagerly. Obviously thrilled by Rossi's presence, the man literally beamed, and she wondered if perhaps she hadn't overthought Graves' usefulness.

"A case?" Peter yelped, guiding his two visitors into the living room, quickly gathering open books off of the sofa and dropping them loudly onto the floor.

"As you've probably seen on the news, Indianapolis has a problem in the form of a man that's already murdered three victims," Dave began, sitting on the sofa when Peter gestured them toward it. "We believe that our unsub shares a connection with you….or more specifically with the school you graduated from….and possibly, The Big Cats Club."

"You read my article," he said knowingly, looking from one face to the other, searching quickly for any further information he could glean.

"We did," Dave agreed simply. "This," he said, nodding to where Emily sat beside him, "is Agent Emily Prentiss. She graduated from your school as well."

"I thought I recognized you," Peter said slowly, narrowing his eyes on the other woman. "You're on the wall of famous alumni. Ambassador's daughter, right?"

"That's correct," Emily acknowledged as she nodded, keeping her tone light and her smile sweet. "Although I prefer to think it's been my work at the Bureau that got me on that wall."

"Yeah!" Peter nodded eagerly. "Of course!"

"At any rate, after reading your article, Agent Prentiss and I agreed that you might be able to shed some light on our unsub. You see, he shares some qualities you described in some of the group's participants. We're concerned that he might have actually been a past member, or perhaps even have been rejected by the group."

"It wouldn't surprise me," Peter muttered as he grimaced, running his fingers through his short hair. "Some of these guys…." He shuddered, "Serious psychos. Hazing a frat at college wasn't as rough as what I witnessed. The mass beatings…the animal torture, it was hideous. Those guys…and I use that term loosely….some of them were seriously missing a key ingredient upstairs. I was never happier to end a story. I mean, I love researching stuff…it adds an authenticity to the copy, but I was way out of my element."

Leaning forward, Emily rested her hands on her thighs as she asked, "Peter, I know it's difficult, but is there anything you didn't put in your article?"

Shooting her an uncomfortable look, Peter hedged. "Look…I want to help, but after that article got published, I got threats….like death threats. People did not want the stuff I wrote about known."

"I understand that, son," Dave replied calmly, crossing one leg over the other. "But, women are dying. If you have some link…maybe the name of a member that we could talk to," he suggested. "Anything could help."

"Look, you know that going to our school for a lot of kids, it was kinda like family tradition, right?" Peter whispered as he stared at Emily.

"I know," Emily said as she nodded, well aware of the path many of the students followed. "It's how I ended up there."

"Me, too," Peter agreed, matching her nod with one of his own. "Well, so was being in this club," he explained. Looking between the two agents fearfully, he kept his voice low. "And some of the participants are some pretty powerful families. Families that wouldn't hesitate to use their influence to kill a budding reporter's career. Or end his life."

"You've been threatened," Emily surmised.

"Not directly," Peter denied as he shook his head. "My dad though…after the article was published, he lost some pretty sizeable clients. It was more of a financial hit, but the next time…."

"Look, neither of us blames you for hesitating, Peter," Dave soothed, easing the young man forward in the conversation. "We can keep your assistance completely anonymous if you have something useful to offer us."

Chewing on his lower lip, he pulled out his phone. "I have club rosters for the past twenty-five years identifying every active Cat and those that were rejected. I…uhmmm…I also have video of what initiations were like if you want it."

"We want everything, Peter," Dave assured him, scribbling his email address on a slip of paper and pushing it toward the other man. "No matter how inconsequential you thought it was."

"Look, I know you guys are used to looking at some pretty nasty stuff." The young man grimaced as he punched at his phone. "But these videos…they're not for the faint of heart."

"We understand." Emily nodded, feeling as though they'd received their first real break since this case had began.

"And you'll make sure that me and the rest of my family's name isn't mentioned, right?" Peter asked nervously, his fingers stilling suddenly against his phone as he glanced up at the two agents. "Seriously, these guys are scary. I'm no wimp. I published the article and I knew what I was getting into, but I've got a girlfriend now and my dad just got his business back on track."

"We'll make sure that nothing is traced back here," Dave agreed solemnly. "_But_, if you do suspect you're in trouble," he said evenly, passing the kid his business card "do _not _hesitate in calling me. That has my personal number on it, so guard it with your life or you'll have bigger problems than any cats, understand? And when you get your next big story written, you contact me. I'll owe you one."

Taking the card, Peter nodded. "Thanks. I hope it helped," he said, leading the agents back to the door.

Smiling, Emily squeezed his arm as she walked out of the house. The boy had helped more than he knew. They'd finally obtained their first solid lead.


	27. Chapter 27

**What****A****Tangled****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Pressing her hand against her mouth as she watched the group of men on the computer screen sacrifice a goat in the woods, Emily Prentiss swallowed hard. As long as she lived, she'd never understand this kind of cruelty. Oh, the profiler in her knew that most of the individuals she was watching were mentally unbalanced, but that didn't help. She'd be hearing those poor animals tortured screams in her sleep for weeks to come.

"Maybe you should take a break. See if Penelope has found anything yet from those lists we gave her?" Dave asked when Emily turned her face away from the screen again.

"She said she'd buzz us when she found anything worthwhile," Emily responded, taking several deep breaths as she mentally willed her stomach to quit rolling.

"Em, there's no shame in taking a break. Reid and I can watch the rest of these films," he said, nodding to the slender man bent over his own laptop on the other side of the table. "Get some air and get out of here for a while."

"I don't need a break," Emily replied tersely, her shoulders stiffening as she met his dark eyes. "I need to figure out which one of these psychos has evolved from mutilating innocent animals to mutilating innocent women. We all know it's just a matter of time before he takes another victim. It's a compulsion that he won't be able to resist. We've got to get a step ahead of him."

"We're doing everything we can, Prentiss," Dave replied calmly, tilting his head slightly as he covertly analyzed her body language. To an untrained observer, she might appear merely focused and determined. But he knew better. He could see beyond the well-crafted surface to the frustration and anger that simmered beneath her skin.

And those barely contained emotions were not about to be contained for much longer.

"It's not enough," Emily retorted, slapping her hand against the table when another scream of pain pierced the silence pervading the room, this time from Reid's laptop.

Looking up from his computer screen in surprise, Reid blinked. Emily never displayed her emotions. Intensely private, it was a well known fact that of all their team, she was the most capable of concealing her thoughts and feelings.

Merely staring at Emily, Dave remarked, "Reid, give us the room for fifteen minutes."

"What?" Emily asked with a severe frown. "What's that going to accomplish besides putting us fifteen minutes _further_ behind?" she questioned as the lanky doctor quickly rose from the table and exited the room. "Damn it, Rossi!" she cursed impatiently.

"Are you done throwing your temper tantrum yet?" Dave questioned mildly. Strangely, he was becoming more accustomed to Emily's rare outbursts. Tolerance had never been his strong suit, but these bursts of temper had humanized her, which made it easier to forgive. It was obvious by the lines of strain bracketing her wide mouth that this day had gotten to her. Now, as the sun began to set in the distance and they were no further to identifying their creep, she was nearing the end of her patience. "We can't manufacture a lead, Em. It is going to take time to weed through all this information."

She knew he was pointing out the obvious. She knew the drill as well as she knew her own name. But that didn't make the reality any rosier. "I know," she admitted grudgingly. "It's just…."

"Personal, Emily. It's _personal_." Dave watched her face as she absorbed those words. She looked like he lobbed some heinous accusation at her instead of simply stating a fact that each person working on their case knew.

"I work really hard to keep my personal and professional life completely separate," Emily maintained tightly after a full minute fraught with tense silence. "I've been fairly successful."

"Emily," Dave said softly, reaching out to settle his hand over hers on the scarred table, "you realize that you've done such a good job at that because you've gone out of your way to have as _little_ of a personal life as anyone I've ever known. To my knowledge, you don't date. You avoid relationships like poison. And you reveal as little of yourself as possible to those around you. That's hardly a life. That's simply existing."

"I'm satisfied with the life I've created for myself, Rossi. If I have no complaints, why should you?" she asked quietly.

"Because, now you're faced with a situation that you can't control like everything else. It's thrown you for a loop. Emily, you're spiraling as much as our unsub is. All I want to do is help," Dave explained truthfully.

"If you want to help me, find this guy. Stop wasting time analyzing _me_. I'm not the one killing women, Dave."

"No, you aren't. But if you'd open up, Emily, there's no telling what information you have and don't even realize. Chances are, you _know_ this unsub, Emily. Perhaps, not intimately, but I feel certain that you have more than just a passing acquaintance with him."

Lifting her chin, Emily licked her dry lips. "Okay, let's say your theory is correct. There were over a hundred guys in my graduating class, assuming he did graduate with me. Where do you suggest I begin this walk down memory lane provided I was willing to take it with you?"

Looking down at the scattered discs that Penelope had made them of the footage from Peter Graves' phone, Dave chose one and held it out to Emily. "I say we start here _with_ your graduating class Big Cats. My guess is that our unsub is on one of these discs. I'm betting it's this one. Let's look at it together and you tell me every single thing you remember about these men, no matter how trivial."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emily stared at the computer disc. "You honestly think this could work?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think it was worth a try. We can do it privately, Em, if you prefer. Let's pack up this stuff, grab a pizza and head back to the hotel. Hotch called it an hour ago anyway."

It was tempting. Emily didn't want to share her memories with any more people than absolutely necessary and Rossi had already proven that he could be trusted to keep her secrets. Slowly nodding, Emily stood. "I'll go grab my coat and let Reid know that we're headed back for the night," she agreed.

Smiling encouragingly, Dave volunteered. "I'll clean up here and meet you at the SUV in ten." Watching as Emily nodded and moved stiffly out the door, he sighed. It might be at a snail's pace, but progress had definitely been made.

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_**Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum news: I'll try to keep it brief.**_

_August signups are open through July 31, 2012 for the "It's a Heat Wave Challenge!" Details can be found at the forum. __**TODAY IS THE LAST DAY!**_

_There is a new discussion thread available called, "_WHY ARE OUR READERS NOT REVIEWING? We asked, and our readers answered!" _Please check it out and leave a comment._

_We also have another discussion thread entitled __**"**_**The Ups and Downs of Writing an Uncommon Pairing**_**"**__. Please let us know what you think! _

_A continued thank you to everyone that has taken the time to read, review, favorite and alert our stories here on this site. We truly enjoy hearing from each one of you. Also, please check out our "M" stories at __**The Writers Coffee Shop (TWCS)**__ and a Brand New site run by fellow CM authors, Kavi Leighanna, Sienna27 and The Truth Between called __**Fractured-reality. Com**__. If anyone needs a link or direction to the new site, please feel free to contact us through either a private message or while leaving a review and we'll make sure to get back to you. Each former "M" story is getting an overhaul as we publish it AND there are new stories being added all the time there as well._


	28. Chapter 28

_**SPECIAL NOTE: SEPTEMBER signups are now open through AUGUST, 31, 2012 for the "THE MIX n MATCH CHALLENGE!" Details can be found at the forum. **_

_**Also, new chapters to "Touched by an Angel" and "You Found Me" have been posted at The Writers Coffee Shop (TWCS) for those following those stories. Links to that site can be found on my profile.**_

_**AND NOW THE BIG NEWS- THE AWARDS SEASON HAS COMMENCED! Nominations have opened for the third annual Profiler's Choice Awards for Criminal Minds' fandom! Please visit Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum for the nomination ballot, rules and guidelines and category definitions. Please review ALL information BEFORE submitting your nomination ballot. Ilovetvalot, Tonnie2001969, and HXChick are NOT eligible for ANY awards.**_

* * *

**What A ****Tangled ****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Swallowing another bite, Emily held her slice of greasy pizza between two fingers. It wasn't exactly her typical dinner fare, but Dave had insisted they needed to eat and refuel, hence the cardboard box between them on the bed.

Chewing thoughtfully, Dave swallowed the final bit of his own slice and sighed. "It ain't Chicago's caliber, but it was edible," he declared, closing the pizza box with a flick of his wrist.

"Glad you liked it," Emily muttered, dropping her own crust in the trash can beside the bed. "Do you think we could get on with this now?" she asked, gesturing to the laptop on the desk. "We've already wasted an hour eating," she complained as she unfolded her legs from beneath her and rose to retrieve the computer.

"Eating, Emily," Dave retorted, clear exasperated. "I'd hardly call fulfilling a bodily function as a waste of time," he groused as she returned with the laptop. Moving the box from between them, he shook his head at her. "You really need to loosen up."

"I'll take that under advisement _after_ we conclude this case," she returned, popping the DVD into the bay and turning on the computer. "Until then, can we please focus on the job at hand?" Pressing her lips together as she waited for the DVD to load, she reminded herself that Rossi was trying to help.

Everyone was trying to help. And she appreciated it. She really did. But knowing that so much of her private life had been made a part of their investigation was harder than she'd expected it would be.

It wasn't that she was ashamed of her former life. Not exactly.

But the person that she'd become over the years and the girl she had been when she'd known these victims were two entirely different people. The old Emily had been a shy, insecure child that had been searching for approval in all the wrong places. The woman she was now…hell, how did she describe herself?

Self-assured and coldly rational, she strived to present a persona capable of handling anything. She was driven to prove herself to those around her. She was…honestly? Maybe she wasn't so different from teenage Emily after all.

"Emily?" Dave murmured, watching the young woman's face as she drifted away in thought.

Startled, Emily looked at the man sitting on the other side of the bed. "Yeah?"

"I thought you wanted to get started?" Dave pointed out carefully, nodding at the screen.

"What?" Emily asked blankly, her mind still muddled by her previous thoughts. Realizing what Dave meant, she blushed guiltily. "Oh, I do," she said quickly. "Sorry," she mumbled, fumbling for the mouse.

Smiling faintly, Dave watched Emily start the video. "Okay, let's watch it through once and you tell me when you see a familiar face," Dave suggested softly. "I'll make a note of the names and then we'll discuss your memory of each person at the end."

In theory, his plan sounded foolproof. Emily knew, however, that discussing her recollections of the people on the video would be a painful process. Painful or not, though, it had to be done.

"You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Emily muttered, clicking the mouse.

Watching the grainy footage, she swallowed past the nausea knotting her stomach. Ignoring the torture unfolding on the screen as the group of man surrounded a captured doe, she drew on her professionalism and struggled to focus on the images on the screen with an impartial eye.

"Emily," Dave prompted gruffly, "Do you recognized any of the faces?"

Zooming in on the small group with the mouse, Emily enlarged the image. "From left to right, that's Kevin Aames, Austin Grimes, Parker Lansing, David Gregory, and…" Emily paused.

Squinting at the screen, she tried to make out the features of the last two boys. "That's John Ralston," she said, pointing at a boy in a baseball cap and oversized Duke sweatshirt. "And, my God! That's Evan Chambers!"

Satisfied, Dave reached for the mouse and ended the video. Watching the mutilation of the hapless animal they'd strapped down on an altar was pointless. They both knew how that particular story ended. They'd seen it on countless other videos. The so-called ritual went the same on every year they'd viewed.

Staring at the darkened screen, Emily's mind spun. So many memories whirling through her brain that she had to squeeze her eyes closed a moment to try and get some control. "Where do we start?" she whispered, bracing her hands against her knees as she opened her eyes and stared across the room.

"With the first name," Dave said calmly, glancing down at the list of names he'd jotted down while Emily had watched. "We take 'em apart one at a time and analyze them based on your memories," he stated, rising from the edge of the bed to cross the room to the small mini-fridge in the corner.

Nodding, Emily watched as Dave retrieved two cans of soda and carried them back to their makeshift work area on the queen bed. Accepting the frosty can, she popped the tab and took a fortifying sip. "Who did I name first?"

Dave took a drink of his own soda as he picked up his notebook and looked down at it. "Kevin Aames," he read aloud.

Tilting her head, Emily replied, "He was a pretty boy. Trust fund baby. I think his dad was into oil. Other than his skill with the girls, he wasn't known for much."

"Gut feeling?" Dave grunted, glancing at Emily.

"It's not him. He was too fond of looking at himself in the mirror. The time this unsub takes with his victims…Kevin was too vain for that."

"Okay, how about Austin Grimes?" Dave asked.

"He was a jock," Emily replied, rolling her eyes. "Chances are he was there because he thought it would be manly. He took a lot of pressure from his dad. I think he played for the Steelers back when we were kids. It was some professional team. At any rate, my instincts tell me it wasn't him. He had a steady girlfriend all through high school, Dave. And they're still married."

"All right," Dave replied amiably. "What about Parker Lansing?"

Raising one eyebrow, Emily nodded. "Now , he's one I'd say we definitely need to look more closely at."

* * *

_**Dear Readers,**_

_**Tomorrow, I (ilovetvalot) will be having surgery on my cervical spine. This will delay all further postings until Monday. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Please direct all questions regarding the Profiler's Choice Awards and nominations to Tonnie2001969 and allow us 72 hours to respond to any questions. We would like to encourage you to nominate your favorite CM stories in this year's awards. We'd like to have a nice well-rounded voting ballot to offer you and that only happens if we nominate our faves.**_

_**Thanks again for your understanding!**_

_**ilovetvalot**_


	29. Chapter 29

_**SPECIAL NOTE: **_

_**AND NOW THE BIG NEWS- THE AWARDS SEASON HAS COMMENCED! Nominations have opened for the third annual Profiler's Choice Awards for Criminal Minds' fandom! Please visit Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum for the nomination ballot, rules and guidelines and category definitions. Please review ALL information BEFORE submitting your nomination ballot. Ilovetvalot, Tonnie2001969, and HXChick are NOT eligible for ANY awards. PLEASE COME BY THE FORUM AND TAKE A LOOK. EVERY NOMINATION BALLOT IS IMPORTANT!**_

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**What ****A ****Tangled ****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

"What about Parker Lansing?"

Raising one eyebrow, Emily nodded slowly as she pondered that name. "Now, he's one I'd say we definitely need to look more closely at."

Pausing with his pen poised over his notebook, Dave glanced up at her, the tone of her voice signaling that there was far more to the story. "Okay, shoot. Tell me what we don't know," he invited.

"He was off his rocker even in high school," Emily replied slowly, shifting as she made herself more comfortable. "I don't have any personal experience with him but the rumors ran wild about him. Everything from cheating on exams to roughing up his girlfriends. He bears an intensive screening from Garcia," she said, nodding at the pad in his hand.

Nodding, Dave made the requisite note before prodding in his patented way. "Next we have David Gregory. Any memories?"

"Not really," Emily replied with a shake of her head, pursing her lips. "He was kinda quiet and soft spoken. If he was there, I believe it was at someone else's coaxing. Or maybe because it's what his father expected from him. He seemed like the type that could be easily manipulated."

Making another notation, Dave said, "John Ralston?"

"Asshole," Emily replied succinctly, the observation coming quickly and without remorse. Seeing Dave raise an eyebrow, she sighed. "Our mothers are both ambassadors. He liked to wield his power and influence, lording it over _anyone – _which was pretty much everyone – that he could. I didn't. Massively different styles."

"I see," Dave replied evenly, merely arching one brow as he watched her eyes flash.

"Plus, he had a habit of treating women like possessions. Oh, he wanted the very prettiest, most desirable girls, but he was clearly in control of his relationships. They were Stepford girlfriends. And the moment that they showed any sign of independence, they were gone."

"So, he goes on the list," Dave commented.

"Most definitely," Emily agreed as she frowned. "The top of the list. He fits the profile."

"Evan Chambers?" Dave asked, lifting his eyes from his notes.

Touching the tip of her tongue to her upper lip, Emily tilted her head. "Evan is the surprise here, Dave. We were friends, of a sort. I mean, not go to the movies, hold my hand type of buddies, but more 'Can I borrow your psychology notes?' friends. I can't believe he was even _there. _If he's the unsub, he seriously had a lot of people, including me, fooled."

"Emily, not only did he seem to be there, he looked like he was enjoying the festivities," Dave pointed out grimly. "What was his backstory?"

"Evan was a trust fund baby, but not conceited about it. His father died in a plane crash when Evan was four. He came into his inheritance when he was eighteen, though, which was a good thing considering that his mother liked to exert a huge amount of control over him. Mostly because she could, and partly because she wanted to guide his career. He was supposed to go into politics, but he wanted to study the soft sciences. You know, psychology, sociology. I think they split the difference and he went into law."

"Did he hate his mother's pressures?"

"Not that I can remember. I think he was more wary of her than anything else. He knew she held the purse strings and it wasn't until his birthday and a visit from the family attorney at school that he knew any differently. I remember that he was so happy that day. We were eating lunch when he walked into the cafeteria and announced he was free from his mother."

"We profiled this guy with an unhealthy attachment to his mother. That doesn't fit."

"Maybe not," Emily replied with a shrug. "But his withdrawn, shy nature does. And you saw the look on his face during the animal sacrifice. That was near ecstasy, Rossi. It can't hurt to check him out now. Hell, it can't hurt to check all of them out. They'd each have to have a few screws loose to show up to this thing," Emily noted with a nod to the computer.

"I can't argue that," Dave conceded. "I'm going to call these names in to Garcia. Do you feel up to looking at the videos for the years prior and directly following your graduation year?"

Nodding, Emily swallowed. It wasn't something she was particularly looking forward to, but time and necessity made it unavoidable. This killer wasn't going to walk into a police station and confess.

On the contrary, he was determined to lead them on a merry chase every fucking step of the way. He wasn't going to stop killing. He couldn't. His compulsive need to torture and destroy was a drive he couldn't ignore or deny. And she knew that somewhere on his list, she was a target. She could feel it deep in her soul. And while she'd done things that she was sorry for…committed acts for which she needed forgiveness…she did _not_ deserve this.

No one did.

"Sounds like a plan," she forced herself to agree.

Standing beside the bed, Dave looked at his cell phone. "I've got no bars in here. I'm gonna step outside for better reception. You'll be okay until I get back?"

Smiling ruefully, Emily nodded. "Just peachy."

"Two minutes," Dave muttered, already dialing his phone as he walked toward the door.

Waiting until he'd closed it behind him, Emily exhaled a shaky breath and glared at the computer on the bed. Damn it, why the hell couldn't she convince her body and mind to act like the professional she was? She'd been threatened before this case. She'd certainly seen her fair share of danger. She'd faced down some of the worst psychopaths society had to offer. She'd definitely seen worse corpses than the ones she'd been faced with in the past few days.

So, why in the hell was she terrified?

Oh, she'd do her best not to allow it to show to her friends. Her showing any emotion at all would produce a freakfest the likes of which the BAU had ever seen. She felt sure of that. But continuing to keep a lid on that fear, especially around seasoned pros like Rossi and Hotch, was becoming almost impossible.

The fact was, the unsub had gotten under her skin…inside her.

And that fact scared her almost as much as the unsub himself.

* * *

**Until further notice, this story will be on hiatus for the foreseeable future.**


	30. Chapter 30

**What A ****Tangled****Web**** We Weave**

**Chapter Thirty**

Outside, David Rossi stretched his arms above his head and grimaced, the kinks in his back and knots of tension in his neck protesting his movements loudly. Inhaling the crisp air, he leaned against the railing bracketing the hotel and gazed into the empty parking lot. Thankfully, Aaron had called a halt to the investigation for the night but promised to get Garcia on their list of suspects first thing in the morning, paying special attention to Parker Lansing and Evan Chambers. Maybe they'd get lucky and something would pop right away, he thought hopefully.

He doubted it, of course; but it never hurt to pray for the best.

Glancing over his shoulder through the window at Emily, he sighed. He knew Hotch's directive to get some rest was going to piss her off. But, his second order was gonna make her livid. Aaron's grim command still rang in his ears several minutes after he'd hung up with the younger man.

"_And whatever you do, Rossi, don't let Prentiss out of your sight. I want eyes on her at all times. Whether she likes it or not, she's a probable target. Let's not make this unsub's job any easier than necessary."_

Yeah, Emily was going to shit kittens over that particular order.

"Too fucking bad," he muttered to himself. Aaron was right. Emily had a target on her back. One that he was certain she'd be willing to exploit if it meant a chance to catch this monster. It appeared it was up to him to throw the proverbial wrench in that convoluted plan of hers.

Even now, watching her sit on the bed and stare into space through the dirty glass, he knew she was plotting, forming a plan on how she could use herself as bait. It was clear that she was more than willing to dangle herself as prey for the predator.

The hell with that scheme. She'd get herself killed. And he couldn't handle the thought of losing someone else. Especially not her. Not to some crazed asshole. Fuck that.

So, he'd do what he'd been trained to do. He'd manage the situation.

He almost laughed aloud at his thought.

He seriously doubted that Emily Prentiss had allowed anyone to manage her since she'd been in diapers. The woman was the definition of independent. Infuriatingly independent, if he was honest with himself about it. Since this nightmare had began, he'd alternated between wanted to kiss her, lock her in a cell until this fucktard was caught, and chain her to his side so that she couldn't race headlong into trouble without him.

Each option would almost certainly assure his untimely demise at her capable hands.

But it would be a hell of a way to go.

"Dave!" she yelled through the window. "What are you doing out there?"

Okay, he'd been busted staring at her. Holding up a finger, he moved out of her eye line and drew a deep breath. There was no sense standing out here hesitating. Her reaction wasn't likely to get any better. In fact, the longer he kept her waiting, the worse it would be. Better to bite the bullet and face her now.

Opening the door to her room, he crossed the threshold and met her expectant gaze.

"So? What's the plan? Are we going back to the precinct to help Garcia search for more information?" she asked, already reaching for her jacket.

Hesitating a moment, he slowly licked his lips. "No." Watching as Emily froze with one arm already jammed in her coat, he shook his head.

"What do you mean, no?" she asked, blinking slowly as she tried to process his succinct statement. "There are things that need to be done tonight, Dave. Of course, we're going back to the station."

"Actually, we're not," Dave replied, shedding his own suit coat for emphasis and draping it over the chair in the corner. "Aaron's called it for the night. He said everybody needs to grab a solid eight hours sleep and we'll start fresh in the morning."

"Is Hotch nuts?" Emily exploded furiously, whirling to face Dave fully. "I seriously doubt our unsub believes much in taking breaks!"

"I happen to agree with him. Nobody will be able to draw any kind of reliable conclusions about this guy if they're exhausted. You know that. We get tired and then we get sloppy. We can't afford sloppy, Em. Not with this guy," he noted, loosening his tie. "All of us need to be sharp on this one."

"Damn it," Emily muttered, shouldering out of her jacket again and hurling it toward the bed. Breathing deeply, she was aware of Dave behind her, watching her every move. "Fine," she finally said as she struggled to regain control of her frayed temper. "You can go then. I'll see you in the morning."

"Well," Dave drawled, dropping his hands in his pockets as he eyed her, "That's where the road gets a little slippery. I'm not going anywhere tonight, Emily."

Emily turned and narrowed her eyes on the man in front of her. "What does that mean, exactly?" she asked with a sneaking suspicion that she knew just what he meant.

"I'll be sharing your room tonight, Emily. With you," Rossi replied as he silently wondered how fast she could actually reach the gun she'd stowed in the bed stand when they'd come in earlier.

Emily was silent a full minute, her face clenched and fists bawled into tight fists as she fought her anger. She wanted to curse. She wanted to throw something at the arrogant profiler occupying her room. Hell, she wanted to shoot him. Point blank. In the head.

She wouldn't.

But, she wanted to.

"Don't you and Hotch think enough of my privacy has been invaded for one day?" she questioned coldly when she trusted her voice again.

"Nope, not if giving you your space might get you dead," Dave returned evenly, sidestepping her to walk toward the bed. "So, which side of the bed do you like? Left or right?"


End file.
